IVORY 


CSOHOTCHKISS 


301U 


THE  IVORY  BALL 


0*  CALIF.  UBHUK,  MB  **** 


"I — I  thought  you  dead" 


THE  IVORY  BALL 


BY 

CHAUNCEY  C.  HOTCHKISS 


AUTHOR.OF 

IN  DEFIANCE  OF  THE  KING, 
MAUDE  BAXTER,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

R.  L.  RIVERA 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW     YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1920,  BY 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


Stack 
Annex 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE  .....  i 

II.  AT  CALLAHAN'S    ,      ......  15 

III.  THE  FIGHT     ........  28 

IV.  THE  IVORY  BALL        ......  42 

V.  THE  RESPITE        .......  54 

VI.  THE  FLIGHT   ........  60 

VII.  IN  THE  DESERT    .......  74 

VIII.  A  CLIMAX      ........  86 

IX.  THE  RESCUE         .....      .      .  103 

X.  IN  SAN  FRANCISCO      ......  107 

XI.  THE  RECEPTION    .......  115 

XII.  THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS      .....  125 

XIII.  THE  AWAKENING        ......  139 

XIV.  A  GILDED  CAGE   .......  166 

XV.  THE  ABYSS     ........  181 

XVI.  HUMILIATION  ........  194 

XVII.  SEVEN  DAYS         .......  201 

XVIII.  MY  LADY'S  CHAMBER       .....  210 

XLX.  AN  ULTIMATUM    .......  220 

XX.  FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN     .....  227 

XXI.  AN  INSPIRATION   .......  242 

XXII.  A  MATTER  OF  FAITH        .....  251 

XXIII.  SUCCESS  ......      ...  259 

XXIV.  BESIEGED       ........  270 

XXV.  A  CORNERED  RAT      .....  *  .  289 

XXVI.  SAVING  His  FACE      ......  299 


2130147 


THE  IVORY  BALL 


THE  IVORY  BALL 


CHAPTER  I 
ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE 

THE  train  stopped  with  a  sudden  lurch  and  a 
shrieking    of    brakes    that    startled    John 
Laurens  from  his  revery  and  brought  him 
to  his  feet  on  the  observation  platform  of  the  rear 
car.    Bending  over  the  ornate  railing  he  looked  for 
ward,  and  at  the  same  time  the  silent  man  who  had 
been  his  unknown  companion  since  taking  the  train 
at  Chihuahua  jumped  from  his  chair,  glanced  ahead 
and  then  went  into  the  sleeper. 

The  train  had  halted  in  a  semi-desert  To  the 
west  the  mountains,  barren  save  for  a  few  dark 
patches  of  post-oak,  lifted  high  and  rugged  against 
the  glow  of  the  clear  evening  sky;  to  the  east  the 
land  fell  away  into  a  hopeless,  melancholy  waste, 
its  forlorn  appearance  in  no  way  relieved  by  the 


2  THE  IVORY  BALL 

silvery  half  moon  which  was  turning  golden  in  the 
rapidly  waning  light.  The  prospect  was  wan — » 
lurid. 

As  Laurens  looked  forward  he  could  see  nothing 
more  threatening  than  a  tall  Mexican  in  the  ever 
lasting  peaked  sombrero  he  had  learned  to  detest 
as  both  unbecoming  and  ungraceful.  The  man  car 
ried  a  red  flag  and  was  standing  on  the  ground  by 
the  engine,  gesticulating  violently  in  Spanish  fashion 
as  he  talked  to  the  engineer  leaning  from  the  cab 
window.  As  Laurens  looked  he  saw  the  conductor 
run  up  the  track  and  join  the  two  and  a  moment 
later  he  was  followed  by  the  silent  man  who  had  just 
left  the  observation  platform. 

The  air  was  startlingly  quiet  after  the  loud  clat 
tering  of  wheels — more  than  merely  quiet — there 
seemed  to  be  an  ominous  quality  to  the  intense  still 
ness,  and  as  Laurens  flung  away  his  finished  cigar 
and  looked  over  the  country,  abject  in  its  desolation, 
he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  and  unaccountable  de 
pression  which  for  a  moment  gave  him  a  sense  of 
panic — the  panic  of  a  lost  child.  It  was  like  a  dumb 
warning — a  premonition  of  disaster  which  he,  as  a 
mortal,  was  too  gross  to  understand. 

But  John  Laurens  was  no  hand  to  long  submit 
to  vapors.  In  quick  contempt  of  what  he  considered 


ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE  3 

weakness  he  shook  his  broad  shoulders,  and,  climb 
ing  the  platform  railing,  dropped  to  the  track  and 
walked  forward,  wondering  why  the  train  had 
stopped.  Before  he  was  half  way  to  the  engine  he 
met  his  late  silent  companion  coming  back.  Neither 
man  had  spoken  to  the  other  throughout  the  jour 
ney;  neither  had  made  overtures  to**become  ac 
quainted;  Laurens,  because  he  could  not  speak 
Spanish,  and  the  stranger  because,  as  it  proved  later, 
he  had  enough  to  think  about  without  being 
troubled  by  the  flippancy  of  the  average  traveler. 

But  for  all  his  aloofness  Laurens  had  taken  a  lik 
ing  for  the  man;  for  the  expression  of  his  fine  face, 
for  its  clear  tan,  and  for  his  well-knit  figure.  He 
had  hardly  thought  him  a  Mexican,  and  yet  he  bore 
many  of  the  ear-marks  of  the  country.  To  Laurens' 
surprise  he  did  not  pass  him,  but  halted  directly  in 
his  front,  and  then  the  young  man  knew  he  was  no 
native  of  the  land  of  cactus. 

"Say,  stranger,  I  was  just  a-comin'  for  you.  I 
takes  it  you  belongs  north  o'  the  line."  The  words 
were  in  the  soft  drawl  of  the  American  cow-boy. 

"Yes,  I'm  from  the  North.  Why?"  was  the 
return. 

"I  savvied  as  much,"  said  the  other,  sinking  his 
voice  almost  to  a  whisper. 


4  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"We're  both  'gringos'  to  these  folks.  And  the 
devil's  on  the  rampage." 

"What's  up?"  asked  Laurens  in  undisguised  as 
tonishment. 

"Jes'  step  out  o'  earshot  o'  that  sleeper  car,  pard- 
ner.  Damned  if  I  don't  think  Mexico  is  sprinkled 
over  with  ears." 

To  Laurens'  curprise  the  man  burst  into  a  sudden 
loud  laugh,  as  if  something  very  humorous  had 
struck  him,  and,  taking  the  young  man  by  the  arm, 
drew  him  away  from  the  track,  still  laughing  as  he 
walked. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  Laurens  would 
have  resented  both  the  uncalled-for  laugh  and  the 
air  of  extreme  familiarity  with  which  he  was  being 
treated;  but  the  occasion  was  out  of  the  common 
and  he  resented  neither;  instead,  he  permitted  him 
self  to  appear  to  be  an  old  friend.  For  some  reason 
he  felt  that  the  hitherto  silent  man  was  acting  a 
part,  and  he  would  soon  know  why. 

When  the  two  had  gone  to  some  distance  from 
the  standing  train  the  stranger's  face  suddenly 
sobered.  "Pardon  me,  son,"  he  began.  "I  wa'n't 
laughin'  at  you.  An'  you  needn't  be  afeered  we'll  be 
left  by  the  caravan;  that  tram  won't  move  on  in  a 
hurry!" 


ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE  5 

"What's  the  trouble?"  asked  Laurens.  "I  see 
nothing  to  prevent  our  going  ahead." 

"Of  course,  son,  you  don't.  I  do.  What  might 
be  your  name,  sir?"  The  question  was  more  of  a 
demand  than  a  request. 

"I  am  John  Laurens,  of  New  York." 

"I  took  you  to  be  of  the  sea,  sir." 

"You  were  right,"  was  the  return.  "I  was  once 
an  officer  in  the  United  States  Navy." 

"So !  I'm  Tom  Melton.  I  got  a  big  sheep- 
ranch  down  here  in  the  grass  region,  an'  Splithoof 
Ranch  is  some  known  in  these  parts.  I  cal'lated 
on  gettin'  off  at  Las  Minas,  but  now  I  reckon  it'll 
be  a  matter  o'  gettin'  off  alive  from  anywheres." 

Laurens  looked  at  him  in  wonder,  and  though  his 
wonder  was  not  yet  tinged  with  alarm  he  knew  that 
there  was  something  serious  in  the  wind.  Melton 
no  longer  laughed,  and  though  his  words  had  the 
light  air  which  seemed  a  part  of  his  natural  manner 
of  speech,  it  was  plain  that  he  was  intensely  in 
earnest.  "What  do  you  mean?  Come  to  the  point," 
said  the  young  man. 

"I  means  this,"  was  the  slow  return.  "I  don't 
savvy  how  you  stands  grief,  sir,  but  there's  merry 
hell  to  pay  right  now.  The  insurrectos  have  just 
blown  up  a  culvert  two  mile  north  o'  here.  It  was 


6  THE  IVORY  BALL 

savvied  by  that  greaser  track-walker  talkin'  to  the 
engineer  and  conductor.  He  saw  it  done  and  he 
legged  it  back  here  to  stop  us." 

"You  don't  mean " 

"I  means,  pardner,"  interrupted  Melton,  "that 
the  greaser  says  the  gang  is  waitin'  for  us  to  come 
up.  When  they  saw  the  flag  bearer  an'  knew  he 
was  wise  to  them  they  tried  to  pot  him.  He  made 
out  as  how  he  was  hit,  an'  rolls  down  the  embank 
ment;  then  bein'  out  o'  sight,  he  ups  an'  runs  again. 
Pretty  shrewd  greaser,  that!  He  deserves  a  hat  full 
of  pesos." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  son,  now  it's  just  a  question  of  how  long 
them  bandits  will  wait  for  this  here  train  afore  they 
comes- after  it." 

Had  the  quietly  speaking  man  suddenly  struck 
Laurens  in  the  face  he  would  not  have  staggered  him 
more  thoroughly.  There  was  no  need  for  the  ex- 
officer  to  be  told  the  seriousness  of  the  situation,  for 
to  him  came  the  vivid  recollection  of  the  fact  that  but 
the  week  before  a  party  of  Americans,  miners  and 
oil  prospectors,  had  been  taken  from  a  held-up  train 
on  a  branch  road  and  shot  off-hand  for  the  simple 
reason  that  they  were  "damned  gringos."  He  was 
also  aware  of  the  civil  and  military  disorder  of  the 


ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE  7 

country,  but  he  had  never  dreamed  of  danger  on  the 
National  Main  Line. 

The  ranchman  looked  hard  at  his  companion  as 
if  to  mark  how  the  news  affected  him,  but  Laurens 
had  been  trained  in  the  school  which  teaches  its 
officers  to  conceal  anxiety.  "Is  it  proposed  to  de 
fend  the  train?"  he  asked,  assuming  a  calmness  he 
did  not  feel. 

"I  don't  know — nor  care,"  was  the  reply;  "but 
I'm  everlastin'  certain  that  I'm  not  goin'  to  do  per- 
lice  duty  for  the  railroad  management!  Say,  Cap, 
you  an'  me  is  the  only  Americans  on  board  this 
train!  Them  devils  are  after  loot,  mainly,  but  if 
they  find  any  gringoes  they'll  sure  rob  them  an'  then 
be  likely  to  make  jerked  meat  out  o'  them — especial 
out  o'  me." 

"Why  of  you?"  asked  Laurens,  his  brain  in  some 
thing  of  a  whirl. 

"Because  one  of  them  land-pirates — insurrectos, 
they  calls  themselves — came  to  Splithoof  Ranch 
some  months  ago  an'  lets  on  that  he's  a  nephew  o' 
that  curse  o'  Mexico,  Francisco  Villa.  That 
greaser  considered  himself  some  youth,  havin'  Villa 
blood  in  him,  an'  demands  forty  thousand  pesos  or 
twenty  thousand  American  dollars  to  insure  me  pro 
tection  from  his  kind.  That  happened  just  afore 


8  THE  IVORY  BALL 

trouble  broke  out  in  this  section.  I  was  some  mad 
and  acted  independent,  you  might  say.  I  listened 
to  him  an'  then  calmly  refused.  He  began  threat- 
enin'  me,  but  I  stopped  him  by  nachully  knockin'  him 
down  an'  kickin'  him  off_the  place.  I  was  a  fool 
for  doin'  it.  Since  th£n  I  learned  that  I  was  a 
marked  man  an'  I've  been  warned  to  get  out  a  dozen 
times.  Final  I  sent  my  wife  and  kid  to  El  Paso  an' 
went  down  to  Chihuahua  to  try  to  get  shet  o'  my 
ranch.  I've  taken  the  warnin'  an'  mean  to  get  into 
God's  country  north  o'  the  line,  if  I  can.  Everything 
I  have  is  in  Splithoof,  an'  I  nachully  won't  desert  it 
until  I  have  to.  See?" 

"I  see.  And  now  what's  to  be  done?"  asked 
Laurens,  recognizing  that  his  undeveloped  sixth 
sense  had  been  at  work  in  his  late  sudden  depression. 
"You  and  I  look  to  be  in  a  tight  spot,  if  the  insur- 
rectos  come  down  on  us!" 

"We're  sure  in  a  tight  spot  if  we  stay  here.  Cap," 
was  the  cheerful  return.  "But  we  aint  sheared  yet! 
The  next  collection  of  adobe  palaces  is  called 
Montezuma,  an'  right  southeast  of  it  is  Callahan's 
ranch.  I  know  Callahan.  He  aint  sloppin'  over 
with  the  milk  of  human  kindness,  but  he'll  sell  some 
hosses.  My  deal  is  to  pull  my  freight  right  now — 
light  out  an'  hoof  it  to  his  place,  then  climb  a  hoss 


ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE  9 

an'  ride  on  to  my  own.  Savvy?  I  advises  you  to 
cut — an'  go  with  me." 

Stranger  though  the  sheep-rancher  was,  Laurens 
had  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  his  truth  and  good 
faith.  "How  far  is  it  to  Callahan's?"  he  asked, 
steadying  himself  in  the  face  of  the  situation. 

"He's  in  the  grass  section  what  begins  about  five 
miles  from  here,"  was  the  reply.  "His  ranch  is 
several  yelps  an'  sights  from  this  spot — say  ten  or 
a  dozen  miles  north-east.  Think  quick,  Cap.  I 
wants  to  sneak  right  sharp." 

Laurens'  brain  did  some  rapid  work.  He  had  no 
desire  to  figure  in  Northern  papers  as  a  victim  of 
the  Mexican  outrage  that  appeared  imminent.  Not 
that  anyone  would  mourn  for  him,  for  he  was  prac 
tically  alone  in  the  world,  but  he  was  young,  being 
barely  thirty,  and  life  in  its  fullness  had  but  recently 
opened.  As  an  orphan  he  had  gone  through  An 
napolis,  working  with  dogged  perseverance,  and  it 
was  not  until  he  had  received  his  commission  as  a 
lieutenant  and  made  several  voyages  that  his  last 
remaining  relative,  a  wealthy  uncle,  had  died  and 
left  him  an  independent  fortune.  Until  then  he  had 
not  known  what  it  was  to  spend  a  dollar,  save  for 
necessities.  He  at  once  resigned  from  the  navy 
and  gave  rein  to  his  passion — the  only  passion  he 


10  THE  IVORY  BALL 

had  thus  far  known — a  love  for  traveling,  and  he 
had  lately  returned  from  China,  going  from  San 
Francisco  to  Chihuahua  to  look  after  some  doubt 
ful  mining  interests  in  Mexico. 

There  he  soon  learned  that  as  an  American  he 
could  accomplish  nothing  at  that  time,  and  having 
been  warned  by  his  broker  that  he  had  better  get 
out  of  that  country,  he  was  on  his  way. 

Was  it  all  to  end  by  a  shot  from  a  bandit's  rifle? 
He  could  and  would  fight,  if  necessary,  but  if  he 
refused  the  ranchman's  invitation  he  would  probably 
be  obliged  to  fight  alone.  It  did  not  take  him  long 
to  reach  a  decision.  "It  is  something  more  of  an 
adventure  than  I  anticipated,  but  I  will  go  with  you," 
he  said.  "It  seems  to  be  the  only  thing  to  do." 

"Good!"  returned  the  rancher,  his  face  lighting. 
"Are  you  armed?" 

"I  have  a  revolver  of  navy  pattern  in  my  suit 
case.  I  presume  I'll  have  to  abandon  my  baggage." 

"That's  some  better  than  abandonin'  your  life, 
Cap !  But  a  suit-case  ain't  no  place  for  a  gun,  in 
these  parts.  This  is  the  proper  action."  The  ranch 
man  cautiously  opened  his  coat  and  exposed  a  big 
revolver  strapped  under  his  armpit.  "You  go  get 
your  iron  an'  be  foxy  about  it,"  he  continued.  "You 
savvied  me  laughin'  some  like  an  idjut,  a  spell  back, 


ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE  11 

didn't  you?  Well,  that  was  for  the  benefit  o'  that 
long  haired  old  fossil  with  a  crutch  what's  in  our 
car.  See  him  sittin'  at  the  window?  You  can  bet 
nothin'  gets  by  his  optics  without  being  seen.  He's 
Signor  Ramon  Valance.  I  savvy  him  down  to  the 
ground,  but  him  an'  me  don't  hitch  for  a  cuss.  I 
wouldn't  have  him  know  what  we  was  up  to,  son. 
You  just  chassay  into  the  car  and  open  your  box 
easy  like,  an'  if  the  old  thief  asks  you  questions  you 
lie  to  him  in  United  States  talk.  He  don't  under 
stand  it.  Then  you  saunters  out  to  the  observation 
and  drops  off  an'  I'll  be  with  you.  Savvy?" 

He  laughed  as  if  he  were  telling  the  best  joke 
in  the  world,  but  Laurens  now  knew  it  was  done  to 
deceive  the  swarthy  Mexican  who  was  looking  to 
ward  them,  his  white  hair  streaming  over  his 
shoulders.  His  crutches,  eloquent  of  lameness  and 
helplessnesss  which,  during  the  journey,  had  earned 
their  meed  of  pity  from  Laurens,  a  man  strong  and 
virile,  were  leaning  noticeably  against  the  car  win 
dow  frame.  The  American  felt  a  queer  impulse  to 
laugh  away  the  warnings  of  the  ranchman  of  trouble 
from  that  quarter,  even  while  he  subconsciously 
bowed  to  Melton's  superior  knowledge  of  the  situa 
tion. 

What  trouble  could  come  from  a  helpless  cripple 


12  THE  IVORY  BALL 

— supposing  he  did  have  ears?  Still,  with  the  warn 
ing  ringing  in  his  brain,  the  former  naval  man  felt 
a  bit  hurried  as  he  walked  back  to  the  sleeper,  but 
he  managed  to  do  it  casually,  as  Melton  quite  as 
casually  sauntered  off  in  the  other  direction. 

The  old  Spaniard  was  talking  to  the  brakeman  as 
Laurens  went  to  his  compartment,  but  neither  ap 
peared  to  notice  him  as  he  opened  his  suit-case  and 
slipped  into  his  pocket  his  revolver  and  a  box  of 
cartridges.  Then  he  lounged  out  to  the  platform. 
For  all  he  could  see,  not  a  soul  had  been  interested 
in  his  movements. 

With  a  perfect  consciousness  that  he  was  accept 
ing  Melton  entirely  on  faith  and  plunging  into  the 
unknown,  he  quietly  slipped  over  the  railing  and  was 
almost  at  once  joined  by  the  ranchman,  who  had 
walked  around  the  train.  There  was  no  delay  in 
the  start,  but  before  they  had  gone  down  the  track 
three  hundred  feet  they  were  followed  by  the  brake 
man  who  had  been  talking  to  the  crippled  Spaniard. 
"Where  do  the  signers  go?"  he  asked. 

"None  of  your  damned  business,"  replied  Melton, 
wheeling  on  him. 

"No!  But  I  fear  the  signers  mean  to  leave  the 
protection  of  the  train,"  was  the  unruffled  reply.  "It 
is  the  orders  that  all  remain  aboard.  You  must  go 


ON  THE  NATIONAL  LINE  13 

back,  signers;  the  management  will  not  permit  a 
risk." 

"Go  to  the  devil,"  returned  Melton.  "We  ally 
.where  we  wants  and  when  we  wants." 

"And  where  is  that,  signors?"  asked  the  man,  his 
snaky  smile  being  anything  but  conciliating. 

"Tell  Signor  Valance  to  come  and  find  out,"  was 
the  hot  return  of  Melton  as  he  whipped  his  revolver 
from  under  his  armpit.  "Vamoose,  you  sneak.  If 
you  follow  us  another  foot  I'll  blow  a  hole  in  you ! 
Vamoose,  I  tell  you!" 

The  man  bowed.  "The  signer  will  probably  re 
gret  his  words,"  he  responded,  still  smiling.  "He 
had  better  have  confided  in  me  than  to  have  spoken 
threats.  Adios,  signors." 

He  turned  and  ran  back,  climbed  the  rail  of  the 
observation  platform  and  disappeared  into  the  car. 

"That's  Valance's  doings!"  said  Melton,  catching 
Laurens  by  the  arm  and  dragging  him  from  the 
track.  "Get  to  the  sand-hills,  man;  a  shot  might 
come  from  anywhere !  We've  been  tagged  as  grin 
gos,  and  Ramon  Valance  wants  to  save  us  for  the 
gang  he  has  looked  for!" 

In  a  few  minutes  the  two  were  out  of  sight  from 
the  standing  train.  It  was  fearful  going  in  the  loose 
soil.  Melton,  accustomed  to  riding,  made  hard 


14  THE  IVORY  BALL 

work  of  it,  and  Laurens,  though  no  weakling,  felt 
the  unusual  strain  in  less  than  a  mile.  The  gulf- 
wind,  which  always  rises  about  five  o'clock  and  blows 
until  nearly  nine,  had  gone  down  earlier  than  usual, 
and  the  sailing  gulf-clouds,  forever  a  feature  in  the 
afternoons,  had  been  dissipated.  The  moon  hung 
in  a  sky  absolutely  clear  and  velvety,  and  the  chill 
J  of  the  highlands — a  chill  that  comes  at  night,  even 
in  the  tropics,  made  exertion  necessary  to  comfort. 


CHAPTER  II 
AT  CALLAHAN'S 

IN  no  country  on  earth  are  there  sharper  con 
trasts  in  topography,  character  and  climate 
than  in  Mexico.  The  temperate  condition  of 
the  plateaus  is  met  by  the  torrid  heat  of  the  low 
lands  but  a  few  miles  distant;  the  fertile  plain  is  sud 
denly  terminated  by  an  arid  waste  in  which  life  is 
armed  at  all  points;  the  deadly  air  of  the  coast  is 
offset  by  the  interior  which  has  the  finest  climate 
in  the  world;  and  from  the  sea  to  the  mountain 
peaks  the  flora  runs  from  the  richest  products  of  the 
tropics  to  the  starved  vegetation  of  the  arctic  zone. 

And  the  deserts  are  wonderful.  There  the  dis 
tances  are  glorious  with  color  and  the  false  promises 
of  the  mirage,  for  the  sun  plays  strange  freaks  in 
the  arid  region.  In  them  the  conditions  of  contrast 
still  holds.  Those  vast  tracts,  in  which  rain  rarely 
falls  and  where  the  intensely  dry  atmosphere  ex 
tracts  every  particle  of  moisture  from  the  earth,  may 

15 


18  THE  IVORY  BALL 

be  suddenly  deluged,  and  the  heated  land  show  a 
coating  of  ice  when  that  dreaded  storm,  the 
"norther,"  swoops  down  on  it.  In  a  day,  in  perhaps 
an  hour,  the  terrible  sun  reappears  to  find  the  sand 
hag  lapped  every  drop  of  water,  and  the  hell  re 
sumes  its  old  fiery  aspect.  Mexico  is  a  wonderful 
country,  and  were  it  properly  governed  and  intelli 
gently  cultivated  it  alone  might  feed  the  world. 

It  was  a  semi-arid  region  over  which  Laurens  and 
Melton  trudged.  The  former  never  forgot  that  ter 
rible  walk  ankle  deep  in  the  loose,  yielding  sand. 
Mile  after  mile  they  plodded  until  exhaustion  turned 
them  dumb,  and  it  was  after  nine  o'clock  before 
they  found  themselves  in  the  "grass  country,"  which, 
through  a  freak  of  nature,  had  been  thrown  between 
two  deserts.  There  had  been  no  sign  of  pursuit  and 
the  going  became  easier  there.  Presently  they  struck 
the  faint  trail  running  north  and  south  and  it  was 
close  to  eleven  o'clock  when  they  neared  the  ranch- 
house  which  was  their  destination  and  the  first  habi 
tation  they  had  seen. 

Laurens  felt  ready  to  drop.  There  seemed  noth 
ing  that  could  interest  him  save  some  place  on  which 
he  could  stretch  his  weary  frame  and  renew  himself 
for  what  a  new  day  might  bring  forth.  Long  since 
he  had  become  oblivious  to  the  smaller  things  of  his 


AT  CALLAHAN'S  17 

surroundings.  Things  that  had  not  escaped  him  in 
spite  of  danger  were  now  unnoticed.  Even  the 
melding  of  mesquite  and  pampas,  of  blue-gray  sky 
and  dark-hued  earth  into  the  brunette  of  twilight  and 
black  of  night  no  longer  insensibly  roused  his 
artist's  soul.  Little  things — he  usually  thought  of 
them,  too.  But  there  were  no  "little  beautiful 
things"  to  a  man  whose  feet  were  burning  with  a 
flame  ambitious  to  consume  his  whole  body. 

Yet  he  saw  one  thing.  A  little  white  thing.  It 
caught  his  eye  in  the  clear  moonlight  and  he  picked 
it  from  the  bush.  To  his  surprise  it  was  a  lady's 
handkerchief,  in  one  corner  of  which  was  em 
broidered  a  "J."  He  halted  and  waited  for  his  com 
panion  to  come  up. 

The  sheep-herder  was  tired  to  his  soul  and  it  was 
only  fear  that  still  drove  him  forward. 

"Are  there  any  women  at  Callahan's?"  asked 
Laurens  as  his  companion  joined  him,  and  speaking 
for  the  first  time  in  an  hour. 

"Not  on  your  life !"  was  the  answer.  "Callahan's 
is  a  stag  outfit.  He  won't  have  a  woman  on  the 
place,  not  even  to  cook.  Callahan  is  a  beast  on  two 
laigs!  You'll  see!" 

Laurens  put  the  little  square  of  linen  in  his  pocket 
and  the  two  dragged  on.  A  short  time  elapsed  and 


18  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Melton  shouted  with  something  like  a  ring  in  his 
voice : 

"There  it  is!  And  some  eyes  are  open!" 
He  pointed  to  a  single  light  in  a  low,  adobe  build 
ing  which  stood  apart  from  a  number  of  others. 
It  was  the  main  ranch-house  nestled  among  a  bunch 
of  pecans  and  live-oaks,  and  the  light  showed  with 
a  clearness  that  told  of  its  coming  from  an  open 
window.  Behind  the  house  was  an  immense  sheep 
stockade,  now  empty,  and  near  it  a  corral  in  which 
were  a  few  horses.  Around  the  ranch  on  every 
hand  stretched  a  fairly  level  country  rich  with  grass 
and  dotted  here  and  there  with  clumps  of  trees.  The 
place  looked  like  heaven  to  the  tired  travelers.  In  a 
few  minutes  they  stepped  on  to  the  ramada  of  the 
ranch-house  and  Melton  knocked  loudly  on  the  door. 
There  was  no  delay  in  answering  and  the  door 
was  almost  immediately  opened  by  Callahan  him 
self.  He  was  a  giant  of  an  Irishman,  with  small 
red  eyes  and  a  bristling  mass  of  iron-gray  hair  which 
gave  his  broad  face  a  leonine  expression.  His  im 
mense  figure  was  coarsely  dressed  in  a  red  shirt 
open  in  the  neck,  a  pair  of  dungaree  trousers,  and 
spurred  boots.  He  carried  a  rifle  ready  for  instant 
use.  Though  he  was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  human 
animal  Laurens  was  not  prepossessed  at  sight  of 


AT  CALLAHAN'S  19 

him,  and  his  prejudice  became  strengthened  when 
the  man  ripped  out  an  oath  as  he  recognized  his 
neighbor. 

"Hell!  It's  ye,  is  it!  I  thought  ye  in  the  devil's 
care  these  two  days  back!" 

There  was  no  welcome  in  either  his  manner  or 
his  sullen  tone. 

Melton  forced  a  tired  laugh  and  introduced  Lau- 
rens  with  a  word,  briefly  told  the  events  of  the  night 
and  concluded  the  narrative  with  a  request  for 
horses,  the  Irishman  all  the  time  keeping  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ranchman.  He  had  jerked  a  side  nod 
at  Laurens  as  if  his  presence  made  little  impression. 

"Then  ye  hov  heerd  nawthin'?"  he  demanded, 
when  the  short  story  was  completed.  "An'  there 
are  things  to  know.  Ye  may  come  in,  but  by  the 
same  token  I  don't  know  where  ye  can  slape — an' 
'tis  likely  ye  won't  want  to." 

He  led  them  into  a  good-sized  room  It  was 
sparsely  and  rudely  furnished,  there  being  no  sign 
of  a  woman's  hand  in  the  coarse  interior.  In  the 
center  of  the  apartment  was  a  large  pine  table  on 
which  an  American  lamp  was  burning,  and  at  the 
table  sat  a  youth  of  about  eighteen  dressed  in  a  white 
shirt  and  baggy  riding  trousers.  He  was  evidently 
finishing  a  meal,  and  standing  by,  as  if  attending 


20  THE  IVORY  BALL 

him,  was  a  Chinaman,  his  eyes  like  two  oblique  slits 
in  his  fat  face.  Two  or  three  saddles,  an  empty 
water-skin  and  a  corded  pack  were  thrown  in  a  cor 
ner,  and  four  or  five  common  chairs  were  in  evi 
dence.  A  chest-like  box  stood  on  the  floor.  That 
was  all;  there  were  no  pictures  of  any  kind  and  the 
gray  adobe  wall  was  bare  save  for  a  large  cupboard 
and  a  single  Winchester  rifle  on  brackets.  To  this 
room  there  was  but  one  window,  its  inside  blind  of 
heavy  oak  being  wide  open,  as  was  the  window  itself, 
and  the  four  doors,  including  the  one  from  the  ra- 
mada,  were  closed,  the  one  leading  from  the  rear 
of  the  house  being  barred;  the  other  two  opened 
into  apartments  on  either  side  of  the  main  room. 
At  a  glance  Laurens  took  in  these  uninteresting  de 
tails  as  he  entered. 

As  the  strangers  advanced  the  boy  half  rose  from 
his  chair  and  looked  at  them  with  wondering  eyes; 
the  Chinaman,  his  arms  folded  in  his  sleeves,  crossed 
the  room  and  squatted  on  the  box. 

"Well,  Joe,"  said  the  Irishman,  clapping  the 
youth  on  the  back  with  a  brutal  force  that  staggered 
the  slight  figure,  u  .  .  .  here  be  two  others  like 
ye  an'  yer  dad,  flyin'  for  loife !  Sit  down,  gintle- 
men,"  he  continued,  going  to  the  cupboard  and 
bringing  out  a  bottle  end  a  thick  tumbler,  both  of 


AT  CALLAHAN'S  21 

which  he  slid  across  the  bare  table;  then  he  appeared 
to  notice  the  Chinaman.  "Git  out  o'  here,  ye  domned 
chink!"  he  suddenly  roared,  shaking  his  immense  fist 
at  the  Oriental,  who  got  up  and  seemed  to  glide  into 
one  of  the  adjoining  rooms,  to  which  he  was  at  once 
followed  by  the  youth,  who  had  not  spoken  a  word. 

Melton  dropped  into  a  chair  and  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  them,  but  Laurens  looked  after  the  two,  as 
much  impressed  by  the  Chinaman's  repulsive  face 
as  by  the  boy's  ivory-white  complexion.  As  the  room 
door  opened  and  closed  he  heard  a  loose,  rattling 
cough  in  the  next  apartment,  but  he  was  too  ex 
hausted  to  feel  curious  regarding  it,  and  seated  him 
self  near  his  companion.  Callahan  stood  by  the 
table,  his  post-like  legs  spread  wide,  and  looked 
down  at  his  neighbor. 

"An'  now,  sor,  ye  had  better  take  a  snifter  to 
brace  ye  agin  me  tellin'  ye  that  ye  be  a  ruined  man." 

Melton,  already  pale  from  exhaustion,  turned 
deadly  white.  "What — what  are  you  drivin'  at?" 
he  faltered,  looking  up. 

"At  just  this,"  returned  the  Irishman,  seating 
himself  opposite  the  others.  "Ye  can  climb  anny 
hoss  in  my  corral  an'  git  to  Splithoof  Ranch — 
but  ye  had  better  not."  He  stopped,  poured  out  half 
a  tumbler  of  raw  whisky  and  drank  it  down  without 


22  THE  IVORY  BALL 

a  wink.  Melton  looked  at  him  dumbly  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  almost  shouted: 

"Go  on !    Why  had  I  better  not?" 

"Because,"  was  the  easy  answer,  "yer  man  Filipe 
rode  in  here  yesterday  noon  as  if  all  hell  was  after 
him.  'We're  raided!'  he  yells.  'Thim  devils  hov 
killed  foive  tuan'red  shape!'  says,  he,  'an'  drove  off 
nigh  a  t'ousand  more !'  he  says.  Then  he  tears  away 
south  as  if  afeered  to  look  back.  Sure,  man,  I  learn 
they  hov  cleaned  out  yer  hacienda  an'  fired  ivvery 
thing  that  could  burn.  An'  they  do  be  lookin'  fer 
ye  this  minnit.  Ye  can  figure  on  what  it  manes  if 
they  catch  ye." 

Melton  fell  back  in  his  chair.  "My  God! 
Cleaned  out!  It  has  come  at  last!" 

The  Irishman  was  not  touched  .by  his  distress;  he 
laughed  in  the  face  of  the  stricken  man.  Laurens' 
dislike  for  him  turned  to  sudden  hatred. 

"That's  fer  bein'  a  gringo!"  said  Callahan. 
"Thank  hiven,  I'm  an  English  subjict!  They  wud 
niwer  dare  do  the  likes  o'  that  wi'  me!" 

Laurens  was  dumb  from  astonishment  at  the 
tragic  news  and  indignant  at  the  inhuman  manner 
in  which  it  had  been  broken.  Melton  looked  stu 
pidly  at  his  host  whose  broad  smile  showed  a  row 
of  tobacco-stained  fangs.  "What's  to  be  done? 


AT  CALLAHAN'S  23 

What's  to  be  done?"  he  repeated,  like  a  man  in  a 
daze. 

"Faith,  I  dunno,"  returned  the  Irishman,  with  the 
utmost  cheerfulness.  "I  can  give  ye  no  bed  here, 
though  ye  may  bunk  in  the  quarters,  if  ye  can  stan' 
the  vermin.  Not  two  hours  agone  along  comes  a 
party  o'  three:  a  Major  Stillwell,  his  son — that  boy 
Joe,  an'  the  chink  with  eyes  like  knife-slits  in  a 
shape's  liver.  I  hate  the  sight  o'  him!  The  major 
is  a  sick  man!  I'  faith,  he  is!  He  fair  turned  me 
out  o'  me  own  house,  sayin'  he'd  die  on  the  trail 
if  I  didn't  take  him  in.  Sure,  but  I'll  make  him  pay 
through  the  nose!" 

He  wagged  his  great  head  and  kughed.  Laurens 
remembered  Melton's  telling  him  that  the  man  was 
a  brute,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  smash  him  in 
the  face  as  he  sat  there  as  if  enjoying  his  neighbor's 
distress.  For  a  few  minutes  no  one  spoke,  then 
Callahan  squared  his  elbows  on  the  table.  "Now 
what  be  ye  fellys  goin'  'to  do?"  he  asked.  "I  see 
but  wan  wray  for  ye,  Melton.  If  ye  go  north  or 
south  ye'll  be  caught  an'  shot,  sure  as  God  made 
lambin'  time — but  ye  might  make  a  try  for  Fort 
Hancock." 

"Across    the     Flerro     desert!"     exclaimed    the 


24  THE  IVORY  BALL 

ruined  ranchman,  the  dazed  look  fading  from  his 
eyes. 

'Tis  the  choice  of  two  hells,  seein'  ye  can't  stay 
here!  I'll  sell  ye  the  hosses,  though  I  haven't 
many." 

"What  <lo  you  think?"  asked  Melton,  pulling  him 
self  together  and  turning  to  Laurens.  "The  Flerro 
desert  is  God-forgot !  To  cross  it  would  mean  a 
matter  o'  sand  an'  heat  for  three  days,  and 
then " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  knock  at  the  closed 
outer  door,  and  before  Callahan  had  more  than 
risen  from  his  chair  to  answer  it  the  door  opened 
and  a  man  stepped  quickly  from  the  ramada.  He 
was  a  young  Mexican  in  shabby  military  clothing. 
On  his  head  was  a  huge,  peaked  sombrero  heavily 
ornamented  with  silver  filigree,  the  heels  of  his 
dilapidated  shoes  were  adorned  with  magnificent 
silver  spurs,  their  hangings  jangling  as  he  walked, 
and  thrust  into  a  once  gorgeous  sash  around  his  slen 
der  waist  was  a  revolver.  A  scabbardless  sword, 
discolored  with  rust,  hung  at  his  hip.  As  Melton 
caught  sight  of  his  rather  handsome  face  he  started 
from  his  chair. 

"Miguel  Filial"  he  exclaimed;  and  stood  staring 
at  him. 


AT  CALLAHAN'S  25 

"El  Capitan  Miguel  Villa,  signor,"  was  the  calm 
return,  with  an  accent  on  the  title.  "I  have  great 
pleasure  of  the  meeting  with  Signor  Melton! 
Yes?" 

The  young  fellow's  black  eyes  sparkled  as  he 
bowed  with  the  grace  of  the  Latin,  twisted  the  points 
of  his  slight  mustache  and  looked  around  the  room, 
his  glance  taking  in  every  object.  Then  he  turned 
to  the  Irishman.  "You  are  the  Signor  Callahan? 
Yes?" 

"That's  me  name,"  was  the  scowling  return. 

"Yes?  I  see  that  the  signor  has  the  unexpect 
company!"  went  on  the  intruder.  "Two  gringos! 
I  did  not — ah!  whisky?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  invitation  he  clanked  to 
the  table,  picked  up  the  bottle,  smelled  its  contents, 
and  airily  lifting  it  to  his  lips  took  a  long  pull  of 
the  raw  liquor.  The  cool  impertinence  of  the  act 
angered  the  Irishman.  "By  the  howly  powers!"  he 
began,  but  was  stopped  by  the  stranger  who  held 
up  his  small  hand  to  silence  him. 

"The  signor  would  not  be  inhospitable?  No? 
Witness  the  two  gringos !  Do  they  not  have  of  the 
whisky?  Yes!  And  what  is  the  mere  ceremony, 
signor?"  He  smiled,  and  his  fine  teeth  gave*him  a 
lupine  expression. 


26  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"What  t'  hell!"  exploded  the  Irishman,  his  face 
swelling  with  rage;  and  there  is  no  telling  what  he 
might  have  said  had  not  Melton  cut  him  off.  "Rope 
it!"  he  exclaimed,  pointing  at  the  Mexican.  "That's 
the  damned  hound  that  marked  me  after  I  marked 
him!  Don't  ruin  yourself!" 

For  a  moment  it  appeared  as  if  the  self-confident 
Mexican  would  fly  into  a  fury  at  the  open  insult. 
His  eyes  sparkled  ominously  but  he  smiled  broadly, 
as  if  complimented. 

"So  the  Signer  Melton  now  knows  that  Capitan 
Miguel  Villa  is  not  to  be  despise !"  he  said,  in  his 
soft  voice.  "But  the  Signer  Callahan  has  not  the 
fear  of  trouble!  He  is  no  gringo!  Perhaps  he  is 
the  good  patriot — qulen  sabef  But,  gentlemen,  I 
am  somewhat  of  haste  in  my  visit.  Signer  Callahan, 
he  is  acquaint  of  Signer  Melton's  late  misfortune 
which  the  signor  brought  upon  himself?  Yes?  Let 
us  save  time  to  Signor  Callahan.  For  forty  thou 
sand  pesos  such  misfortune  will  not  happen  to  him. 
Does  the  Signor  Callahan  say  mucho  gusto?" 

He  turned  smilingly  to  the  Irishman,  twisting  his 
little  mustache. 

"For-rty  thousand  divils!"  roared  the  giant.  "I 
am  an  English  subjict,  ye  young  whiffert!  What 
d'ye  mane  by  comin'  here  for  money?" 


AT  CALLAHAN'S  27 

"The  signer  knows  well  what  I  mean,"  was  the 

mruffled  reply.     "He  is  in  Mexico,  not  in  England! 

He  is  friendly  with  these  gringos?    Yes?    Then  he 

must  pay Stop,  signer!"  he  said,  his  face 

darkening  as  the  big  man  got  from  his  chair  and 
stepped  to  the  corner  where  he  had  deposited  his 
rifle.  "It  is  best  for  the  signor  to  know  that  I 
have  my  men  posted  outside.  Eight  men,  signor. 
Men  that  obey.  I  take  no  chances,  gentlemen !" 

For  all  his  gigantic  frame  Callahan  seemed  sud 
denly  to  wilt.  The  Mexican  grinned  and  went  on: 
"Now  we  have  the  complete  understanding!  The 
Signor  Melton  think  he  smart — him^nd  his  fren! 
But " 

"The  cripple,  Ramon  Valance,  has  a  long 
tongue!"  broke  in  Melton,  clearing  himself  from  his 
chair;  and  now  all  signs  of  fatigue  and  mental  dis 
tress  had  vanished  from  his  flushed  face. 

"The  Signor  Valance  is  a  good  patriot!"  was  the 
reply.  "This  is  no  country  for  gringos,  signor!  You 
should  have  learned." 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  FIGHT 

IT  did  not  tax  Laurens'  intellect  to  account  for 
the  presence  of  the  young  Mexican,  nor  did 
he  fail  to  recognize  the  significance  of  his  com 
ing.  His  heart  began  to  race.  It  was  clear  that 
their  desertion  from  the  train  had  been  marked  by 
the  old  villain  with  the  crutches  who  for  reasons  of 
his  own  had  betrayed  the  two  Americans  to  the  ban 
dits.  It  was  equally  plain  that  their  undisguised  trail 
had  been  easily  followed  by  moonlight.  What  was 
to  be  the  outcome?  Laurens  could  only  guess,  and 
his  guess  was  sinister.  He  quietly  slipped  his  hand 
into  the  side  pocket  holding  his  revolver. 

"An'  so  ye've  brought  yer  gang  down  on  me — on 
me!"  said  Callahan,  his  red  eyes  looking  wicked. 

The  young  Mexican  shrugged  his  narrow  shoul 
ders.  "We  have  long  owed  the  signor  a  call — and 
the  signor  has  the  pesos — as  we  happen  to  know. 
And  so  has  this  gringo,"  He  wheeled  and  pointed 

23 


THE  FIGHT  29 

ut  Laurens.  "Signor,  you  are  but  a  traveler.  You 
have  not  the  limber  tongue  and  the  loud  voice.  You 
shall  be  saved  for  one  thousand  pesos.  Yes?" 

Laurens  stared  at  him.  How  did  the  Mexican 
know  he  had  just  five  hundred  dollars  in  his  pocket? 
But  before  he  could  answer  the  demand  the  Mex 
ican  swung  around  to  Melton  and  continued  with 
quick  intensity: 

"Ah!  But  with  the  Signor  Melton  all  is  different. 
He  is  ruin!  He  cannot  pay!  He  once  kick 
Miguel  Villa,  and  for  that  there  is  no  price !  For 
that — ah !  we  will  sec  him  outside.  He  shall  feel  the 
heel " 

He  never  finished  the  sentence.  Melton,  whose 
face  had  been  working  with  rage,  cut  him  off  by 
springing  at  him  and  in  an  instant  had  him  by  the 
throat,  bearing  him  backward  before  the  Mexican 
could  draw  a  weapon.  But  not  before  he  gave  a 
cry  in  Spanish,  and  hardly  was  it  uttered  when  a  jet 
of  flame  streamed  through  the  open  window,  and 
with  the  report  of  the  shot  the  ranchman  loosened 
his  hold  and  fell  face  downward  on  the  floor. 

Freed  from  his  hold  the  young  insurrecto  sprang 
toward  the  door,  but  was  met  by  Callahan,  who 
planted  his  huge  fist  in  the  fellow's  face,  driving  him 
backward  and  well  nigh  across  the  room,  though 


30  THE  IVORY  BALL 

with  the  activity  of  a  cat  he  kept  his  feet  under  him, 
and,  drawing  his  revolver,  fired  at  the  Irishman, 
missing  him. 

Just  what  happened  next  Laurens  wasn't  sure.  By 
then  he  was  en  his  feet  and  had  his  revolver  out. 
He  knew  there  were  three  deafening  explosions  and 
that  a  shot  came  from  the  window  behind  him,  the 
bullet  passing  close  to  his  ear.  He  could  remember 
that  he  jumped  for  the  shutter  and  slammed  it  tight, 
and  when  he  had  gathered  his  disordered  wits,  Cal- 
lahan,  cursing  like  a  pirate,  was  barring  the  heavy 
door,  and  the  young  Mexican,  stone  dead,  lay  on  the 
floor  near  Melton. 

The  room  was  blue  with  powder  smoke,  and  in 
the  doorway  of  the  adjoining  room  stood  the  youth, 
Joe,  his  eyes  wide  with  fright. 

As  the  bar  of  the  door  fell  into  its  place  the  Irish 
man  turned  on  Laurens,  his  face*  furious.  "An*  ye 
hadn't  fired  that  shot  an'  saved  me  life  by  killin' 
that  greaser  I'd  t'row  ye  out  to  them  divils.  Why 
did  he  come  here  an'  bring  this  on  me?" 

The  young  man  was  seeing  red.  He  glanced  at 
the  still  smoking  weapon  in  his  hand  and  realized 
that  he  had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the  short 
fracas.  The  fact  that  his  brains  were  now  on  an 
even  keel  did  not  lessen  his  anger  toward  the  brute 


THE  FIGHT  31 

that  threatened  him  and  whose  life  he  now  knew 
he  had  saved. 

"You're  a  fool!"  he  snapped  back.  "I  have  a 
shot  or  two  left.  Try  to  throw  me  out,  if  you  think 
it  advisable;  I'd  as  soon  put  an  end  to  you  as  to 
the  boy  on  the  floor!"  As  he  spoke  he  raised  his 
revolver. 

Even  if  Callahan  had  not  possessed  policy  he  had 
no  time  to  answer  the  defiance,  for  at  that  instant 
there  came  a  shot  from  outside  and  a  bullet  pene 
trated  the  planking  of  the  door,  showing  its  nose 
through  the  double  boards  but  not  coming  into  the 
room.  It  seemed  to  bring  the  Irishman  to  his 
senses. 

"Faith,  but  ye're  a  man  of  spirit!"  he  cried,  reach 
ing  for  his  rifle.  "Fight?  Hell!  I  know  ye  will; 
an'  ye'll  hov  fightin'  enough  without  gettin'  red 
headed  over  me!  I'm  mad,  man!  I  look  to  be 
mint,  as  was  Melton !  Thim  divils  hov  tasted  blood 
an'  will  be  afther  the  hearts  av  us.  They'll  run 
ivvery  horse  I  hov  in  the  corral!  Whist!  Bar  the 
dure  after  me — I'll  out  an'  'rouse  the  han's,  though 
I  fear  they'll  lay  down  on  me.  Jump  fer  the  major's 
room  an'  see  'tis  tight." 

Callahan  ran  to  the  back  door  and,  throwing  off 
its  bar,  disappeared.  Almost  mechanically  Laurens 


32  THE  IVORY  BALL 

fastened  it  behind  him.  Whether  he  had  been  de 
serted  from  cowardice,  or  not,  he  could  not  know, 
but  he  knew  he  had  been  left  alone  to  face  the  sit 
uation  in  the  house  and  work  out  his  own  salvation. 
There  seemed  but  one  way  of  doing  it,  and  that  was 
to  defend  the  building  as  long  as  possible.  And  he 
knew  he  was  not  left  alone;  there  was  a  man  called 
the  "major,"  the  boy  and  the  Chinaman.  He  might 
make  a  good  showing,  if  backed  by  the  three  with 
spirit. 

After  barring  the  door  behind  the  Irishman,  and 
hearing  nothing  from  outside,  he  examined  his  sur 
roundings.  First  he  looked  into  the  room  opposite 
the  one  in  the  doorway  of  which  the  boy  was  still 
standing  like  a  person  overcome  by  what  he  had 
witnessed.  It  was  a  small  bedroom  with  a  window 
in  the  rear,  and,  like  the  rest,  had  a  heavy  window 
shutter.  Beside  a  bed  there  was  a  cheap  washstand 
with  a  bowl  on  it,  while  on  the  floor  was  a  bucket 
of  water.  Nothing  else  was  in  the  apartment.  Lau- 
rens  fastened  the  shutter  and  brushing  past  the 
youth,  who  in  his  present  state  appeared  useless,  he 
entered  the  room  behind  him.  The  boy  hardly 
moved,  standing  like  one  dazed  by  terror,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  two  bodies  on  the  floor.  For  all  the 
prevailing  quiet  outside  Laurens  felt  that  something 


THE  FIGHT  33 

would  soon  happen.     He  moved  quietly  but  quickly. 

There  was  a  single  window  and  a  back  door  to 
the  room  he  entered  and  to  his  relief  both  were  shut 
and  fastened.  This  he  determined  at  first  glance; 
the  second  showed  him  a  middle-aged  man  lying  on 
a  bed,  and  though  the  air  of  the  place  was  close  and 
foul,  a  burning  lamp  making  the  heat  intolerable,  he 
was  covered  with  a  heavy  Navajo  blanket.  He 
coughed  as  Laurens  entered,  and  one  look  at  him 
showed  the  young  man  that  he  was  an  invalid  far 
gone  in  consumption.  At  the  bedside  was  the  China 
man,  his  placid  countenance  as  expressionless  as  a 
pan  of  grease  as  he  stood  with  his  arms  folded  in 
his  long  sleeves.  The  man  on  the  bed  turned  a 
scared,  white  face  on  the  American.  "What — what 
does  all  the  shooting  mean?"  he  gasped. 

"Nothing  far  out  of  common  in  this  part  of  the 
world,  I  imagine,"  returned  Laurens.  "The  house 
has  been  attacked  by  insurrectos,  so-called — bandits, 
in  fact.  You  are  Major  Stillwell,  I  believe." 

"Yes.    Who  are  you?" 

"Lieutenant  John  Laurens,  lately  of  the  United 
States  Navy;  an  American,  and  like  yourself,  a  refu 
gee.  My  companion  has  just  been  killed  and  I 
have  shot  the  leader  of  the  gang.  Callahan  has  left 
us,  whether  permanently  or  not  I  can't  say.  We  are 


34  THE  IVORY  BALL 

beset  from  outside  and  are  in  a  desperate  situa 
tion,  sir." 

"Your  case  is  not  as  desperate  as  mine!"  was  the 
feeble  return,  as  the  major  laid  a  thin  hand  on  his 
chest  and  coughed.  "I " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  smashing  of  glass  fol 
lowed  by  a  bang  on  the  window  shutter — a  bang  that 
started  the  oak  planks,  though  they  still  held  to 
gether.  The  blow  was  accompanied  by  the  shrill 
shouts  of  four  or  five  men. 

In  an  instant  Laurens  swung  around  and  sent  a 
bullet  into  the  woodwork  and  the  crash  of  the  lead 
was  followed  by  a  scurrying  of  ^eet  on  the  ramada. 
Then  again  silence  fell  but  it  brought  no  sense  of 
security.  Through  the  attack  and  the  deafening  ex 
plosion  of  Laurens'  revolver  the  Chinaman  did  not 
turn  a  hair,  though  at  the  shock  the  major  groaned 
and  nearly  fainted. 

Laurens  knew  he  could  not  defend  the  whole 
house  alone  and  it  was  plain  that  the  major  could 
be  of  no  help  nor  could  the  apparently  panic- 
stricken  boy  be  relied  upon;  but  there  was  the  self- 
contained  Chinaman. 

He  held  out  the  revolver. 

"Here,  John!  You  take  gun.  Kill  any  man  break 
through  window.  Sabe?" 


THE  FIGHT  35 

To  his  astonishment  the  man  did  not  move,  only 
looking  at  him  through  his  slits  of  eyes.  Yet  Lau- 
rens  felt  that  he  was  understood.  "You  fight?"  he 
demanded,  stepping  toward  him.  The  Oriental 
slowly  shook  his  sleek  head  but  otherwise  did  not 
stir  or  make  an  answer. 

"You  cursed  son  of  a  slant-eyed  rat-eater!"  ex 
ploded  Laurens,  carried  away  by  disgust;  and  he 
was  about  to  say  more  when  he  was  stopped  by  a 
touch  on  the  arm,  and  turning  found  the  boy  at  his 
side. 

"You  will  gain  nothing  by  cursing  Fung  Wang," 
he  said,  without  the  least  excitement.  "He  will  not 
fight.  Give  me  the  revolver  and  tell  me  what  to 
do.  Wang,  look  to  the  major."  This  last  to  the 
passive  Oriental.  He  at  once  turned  to  the  gasping 
sick  man  who  looked  like  death. 

Laurens  wa&  astonished  at  the  boy's  calmness  as 
well  as  his  sudden  change.  "You  are  a  game  lad, 
Joe,"  he  said,  wondering  what  kind  of  people  these 
wrere,  not  to  become  excited  under  the  existing  con 
ditions.  "You  have  only  to  guard  the  window  and 
door.  I  will  be  in  the  next  room."  And  with  that 
he  handed  him  the  revolver  and  went  out.  After 
taking  the  Winchester  from  the  wall  and  making 
sure  its  magazine  was  full  he  bent  over  the  body  of 


36  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Melton,  hoping  against  hope  that  he  was  still  alive, 
but  he  was  as  dead  as  the  Mexican  beside  him.  Even 
then  Laurens  thought  of  the  "wife  and  kid"  -who 
were  doubtless  waiting  at  El  Paso  for  the  coming 
of  the  husband  and  father,  and  perhaps  they  would 
never  know  the  cause  of  his  delay. 

But  he  had  scant  time  for  soft  musing;  even  as  he 
straightened  from  the  corpse  of  the  man  he  had 
known  but  a  few  hours  there  came  the  sound  of  a 
shot  from  the  rear  of  the  house,  followed  quickly 
by  another  as  if  in  answer  and  then  two  more.  After 
that  silence  again  fell — a  brooding  silence  which  in 
itself  was  like  a  threat.  Laurens'  nerves  were  on 
the  qui-vhe  and  inaction  was  unendurable.  He  knew 
nothing  of  what  was  going  on  outside  and  the  un 
certainty  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  bear. 
This  was  not  fighting;  to  him  it  savored  of  retreat 
ing  to  a  hole,  rabbit-like,  and  waiting  for  the  hunter 
to  be  discouraged,  or  to  his  submitting  to  be  smoked 
out  or  dug  out.  The  position  did  not  suit  Laurens' 
now  aggressive  spirit,  and  in  a  desire  to  learn  the 
course  of  events  he  blew  out  the  lamp  and  quietly 
unfastening  the  window  shutter,  which  was  breast- 
high  from  the  floor,  cautiously  looked  out. 

The  moon  was  tipped  on  the  edge  of  the  distant 
mountains,  but  there  was  sufficient  light  for  him  to 


THE  FIGHT  37 

make  out  the  shadowy  forms  of  a  number  of  horses 
picketed  beyond  the  pecans,  but  not  a  man  could  he 
see.  There  was  no  encouragement  in  the  outlook; 
the  bandits  had  not  retreated,  nor  did  he  think  it 
likely  they  would  be  beaten  off,  they  knowing  the 
slight  force  garrisoning  the  ranch-house.  Though 
the  young  man  now  had  a  grip  on  himself,  in  his 
heart  he  did  not  expect  to  escape  from  the  trap 
he  was  in;  the  chance  of  being  helped  was  small, 
for  he  knew  enough  of  the  peon  character  to  believe 
that  not  one  of  Callahan's  men  would  lift  a  finger 
in  defense  of  the  ranch  against  the  insurrectos,  peons 
like  themselves.  There  certainly  had  been  no  indi 
cation  of  resistance.  As  for  the  Irishman,  he  might 
have  taken  a  horse  and  ridden  to  safety,  for  all  that 
Laurens  knew  to  the  contrary.  He  had  no  faith  in 
Callahan's  bravery  in  a  combat  like  the  one  in  hand. 
In  the  darkness  he  opened  the  crystal  of  his  watch 
and  felt  of  the  hands,  making  out  that  it  was  about 
one  o'clock.  There  was  not  a  sound  to  break  the 
heavy  silence,  save  when  the  consumptive  coughed 
in  the  next  room.  The  chill  of  the  night  together 
with  the  long  walk,  no  food,  and  the  result  of  his 
excitement,  made  him  shiver  in  spite  of  himself.  He 
thought  of  the  whisky  bottle  on  the  table  and  was 
about  to  go  for  it  when,  just  as  he  was  in  the  act 


88  THE  IVORY  BALL 

of  turning  from  the  window,  the  outside  gloom  was 
cut  by  two  flashes  from  a  mesquite  bush  not  ten 
paces  from  the  ramada,  and  two  reports  rang  out 
in  quick  succession. 

In  an  instant  Laurens  raised  his  rifle  and  fired  at 
the  spot,  immediately  slamming  closed  the  shutter, 
the  crash  of  the  wood  being  followed  by  a  cry  and 
a  heavy  fall  in  the  next  room. 

Instinctively  the  young  man  seemed  to  know  what 
had  happened  and  he  hurried  to  the  adjoining  apart 
ment.  As  he  threw  open  the  door  he  saw  that  the 
lamp  was  still  burning,  the  window  shutter  was 
thrown  open,  and  on  the  floor,  near  the  bed,  lay  the 
boy.  The  Chinaman  was  crouched  in  a  corner.  As 
the  boy  saw  Laurens  he  tried  to  rise  but  fell  back 
unconscious.  The  ex-officer's  mind  being  trained  for 
emergency,  he  acted  almost  instinctively.  Instantly 
blowing  out  the  light  he  ran  to  the  window  and 
carefully  lifting  his  head  above  the  sill,  looked  out. 
The  figure  of  a  man  was  rolling  on  the  grass  near 
the  mesquite  bush  and  two  others  were  running  to 
ward  the  horses.  As  quickly  as  he  could  pump  the 
rifle  he  sent  two  shots  after  them,  then  refastened 
the  shutter  against  a  return  volley. 

But  there  came  no  return  volley.  A  few  minutes 
of  intense  waiting  passed,  then  he  relighted  the  lamp 


THE  FIGHT  89 

and  bent  over  the  fallen  boy.  The  man  on  the  bed 
moaned;  the  Chinaman  remained  motionless  and  im 
perturbable.  He  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  stood 
against  the  adobe  wall.  With  an  effort  the  major 
tried  to  sit  up  but  failed.  "Is — is  he  dead?"  he 
gasped. 

"No,"  snapped  Laurens.  "How  in  the  devil  did 
this  thing  come  about?  Who  opened  that  shutter 
while  there  was  a  light  in  this  room?" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  was  the  return.  "I — I  was 
speaking  to  Joe  when  the  shots  came.  Before  God, 
I  don't  know.  I — I  think "  He  seemed  to  col 
lapse,  for  his  voice  trailed  off  to  nothing  and  he 
closed  his  eyes. 

Laurens  had  no  time  to  attend  to  him.  "Loolc 
after  your  master,  you  cursed  image,"  he  shouted 
to  the  unmoved  Chinaman,  and,  lifting  the  slight 
figure  of  the  boy,  he  carried  it  out  and  into  the  little 
bedroom.  A  few  minutes  later,  there  being  no  fur 
ther  alarm,  he  got  the  lamp  going  and  looked  for 
the  boy's  injury. 

He  found  it  readily  enough — a  clean  bullet  hole, 
like  a  blue  mark,  through  and  through  the  fleshy 
part  of  the  left  shoulder.  It  was  by  no  means  a 
serious  wound,  and  it  showed  that  the  youth  had 
fainted  only  from  shock.  But  when  the  young  man 


40  THE  IVORY  BALL 

tore  down  the  shirt  to  get  at  the  wound  to  dress  it, 
he  gathered  his  brows,  bit  his  lip  and  looked  sharply 
into  the  unconscious  face.  The  line  of  the  shoulder, 
the  delicate  flesh,  and  the  rounded  curve  of  the 
breast  told  him  a  story.  Laurens  was  a  trifle 
startled. 

For  the  boy  was  a  girl! 

A  girl  of  about  eighteen;  the  blood-stained  bosom 
clearly  proclaimed  the  fact. 

Here  was  a  mystery,  but  the  young  man  lost  no 
time  in  trying  to  penetrate  it.  Washing  the  wround 
with  water  from  the  bucket  on  the  floor  he  ban 
daged  it  with  strips  torn  from  the  pillow-case  and 
had  barely  completed  the  hurried  dressing  when  he 
heard  Callahan  thundering  at  the  front  door.  He 
knew  then  that  the  stress  had  passed.  Throwing  a 
sheet  over  the  unconscious  form  he  ran  from  the 
room  and  admitted  the  Irishman  into  the  house. 

Callahan  was  excited.  "They've  gone!"  he 
shouted  as  he  entered.  "Iwery  domned  greaser 
has  pulled  his  freight!  I  saw  thim  go  north 

an' What's  this?"  he  demanded,  as  he  marked 

the  light  moved  to  the  little  room  and  caught  sight 
of  a  figure  on  the  bed. 

Laurens  briefly  told  him  what  had  happened,  but 
suppressed  his  recent  discovery.  Callahan  gave  an 


THE  FIGHT  4>1 

uninterested  grunt.  Going  to  the  table  he  took  a 
drink  from  the  bottle,  then  stepping  to  the  body  of 
the  dead  Mexican  he  gave  it  a  vicious  kick.  "Ha, 
ye  dog!  Ye  got  yer  pesos,  didn't  ye!"  He  turned 
to  the  disgusted  American.  "Ye  be  a  dead  shot  an' 
a  quick  wan,"  he  said.  "I  got  two  o'  the  gang  at 
the  corral  though  they  managed  to  run  three  hosses, 
an'  there's  wan  o'  your  work  lyin'  out  front  beyant 
the  bush.  That  makes  nigh  half  o'  thim !" 

"Then  you  think  we  are  safe?" 

"Safe — hell!"  roared  the  other,  fixing  his  red 
eyes  on  Laurens.  "Open  the  dure  an'  lave  me  t'row 
out  this  coyote  meat."  With  that  he  caught  the  two 
dead  men  by  their  collars  and  dragged  them  from 
the  room  with  no  more  consideration  than  though 
they  were  the  bodies  of  slaughtered  sheep. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  IVORY  BALL 

TT  AURENS  dared  not  protest  at  the  man's  in- 
_j  humanity,  realizing  that  he  was  more  or  less 
at  the  Irishman's  mercy.  His  own  posi 
tion  rendered  him  politic,  while  the  plight  of  the 
major  and  the  pseudo  boy  would  be  made  worse  if 
he  came  into  open  conflict  with  his  host.  Of  the 
Chinaman  he  gave  no  thought.  He  shut  his  teeth 
hard  and  when  Callahan  disappeared  and  did  not 
at  once  return  he  went  back  to  the  little  bedroom 
and  managed  to  get  a  few  drops  of  whisky  between 
the  lips  of  the  still  unconscious  girl.  As  he  marked 
signs  of  returning  life  he  heard  a  slight  noise  and 
looked  up  to  see  the  Oriental  standing  in  the  door 
way,  his  arms  still  folded  in  his  sleeves,  his  fat  face 
as  blank  as  ever.  Laurens  had  only  a  feeling  of 
disgust  for  the  man  and  yet  there  was  something 
about  the  fellow  which  made  him  think  of  a  vol 
cano  with  hidden  fires  ready  to  burst  out  and  over 
whelm — an  air  of  intense  repression — something 

42 


THE  IVORY  BALL  43 

beyond  mere  calmness.  The  American  could  not  see 
into  the  eyes  masked  in  rolls  of  fat  lids. 

"Major-man,  him  belly  sick,"  said  the  Chinaman, 
barely  moving  his  thick  lips.  "Wantee  see  doctler- 
man.  You  go?" 

Laurens  had  an  inspiration.  "You  know  boy  is 
girl?"  he  asked.  The  Celestial  gravely  nodded. 

"Then  no  tell  Callahan.  He  hates  towkina.  No 
place  here  for  towkina.  Sabe?" 

Again  the  unemotional  nod. 

"Then  you  take  chair  and  stay  here  by  girl.  You 
call  me  chop  when  she  wake.  Sabe?" 

Something  like  a  spasm  went  over  the  placid  face, 
but  the  man  nodded  again. 

Laurens  went  into  the  sick  man's  room.  At  a 
glance  he  saw  that  the  major  had  been  having  a 
hemorrhage.  The  dying  man  looked  up,  but  was 
unable  to  speak;  his  pulse  was  fairly  fluttering  from 
weakness  artd  death  was  on  his  haggard  face.  The 
ex-officer  read  the  signs  plainly,  but  there  was  little 
he  could  do — nothing,  in  fact,  but  give  him  a  stiff 
dose  of  whisky  in  order  to  revive  him  temporarily. 
This  he  did  and  waited  for  the  effect.  Presently 
Major  Stillwell  felt  the  lift  of  the  stimulant. 

"I  have — had  another  hemorrhage,"  he  whis 
pered. 


44  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"It  is  quite  evident,  sir." 

"Is — is  my  son  dead?" 

Laurens  had  no  desire  to  probe  into  the  mystery 
surrounding  the  sex  of  the  girl,  nor  had  he  any  wish 
to  conceal  the  truth.  "Major  Stillwell,"  he  said, 
going  straight  to  the  point,  "there  can  be  no  use  in 
attempting  to  deceive  me.  Your  son  is  a  girl.  I 
discovered  the  fact  while  dressing  her  wound  which 
is  in  itself  superficial.  As  for  the  rest,  I  know  noth 
ing  save  that  the  attack  on  the  house  has  ceased  and 
the  bandits  have  gone." 

His  words  seemed  to  help  the  sick  man.  "Thank 
God  for  that!"  he  exclaimed;  then  after  a  moment: 
"I — I  am  glad  you  know — about  Josephine.  It 
makes  it  easier  to  tell  you."  His  voice  grew 
stronger  as  the  whisky  worked, 

"To  tell  me  what?" 

"Sir,"  was  the  return,  "you  are  a  man  of  experi 
ence.  I  must  trust  you.  I  am  dying,  sir.  What 
will  become  of  Josephine  in  this  land  of  anarchy?" 

It  was  a  problem  the  young  man  was  in  no  posi 
tion  to  answer.  Major  Stillwell  looked  up  at  him 
with  appealing  eyes  and  presently  went  on  with  more 
vigor: 

"Fung  Wang  is — well,  you  know  the  Chinese 
nature;  it  is  intensely  selfish  and  I  would  not  trust 


THE  IVORY  BALL  45 

a  woman  with  him.  And  Callahan — God!  What 
an  unfeeling  brute!"  He  stopped  to  cough,  and 
then  continued:  "But  you  are  a  gentleman,  educated 
and  refined.  You  will  not  wholly  desert  her.  For 
the  love  of  God,  promise  me  to  protect  her  until  she 
gets  from  this  cursed  country."  The  man  was  be 
coming  agitated. 

"I  can  only  promise  to  do  my  best  for  her,  sir. 
I  will  not  desert  her,  Major,"  answered  Laurens. 
The  dying  man  grasped  his  hand,  his  own  being 
already  cold.  "Then  I  have  your  word  of  honor. 
But — but  I  am  no  major,  sir.  A  title  commands  re 
spect  in  this  country.  Little  else  does.  No  matter! 
I  am  only  a  business  man — a  jeweler — an  expert  on 
precious  stones.  I I Could  I  see  Jo 
sephine  for  a  moment?  My  God,  I  must!  I  must 
confess  to  her I  must  tell  her!" 

Laurens  marked  the  man's  growing  excitement, 
and  it  was  plain  that  something  was  troubling  his 
mind. 

"It  is  impossible  to  see  her  at  present,  sir.  She 
is  unconscious  from  shock." 

"And  I  cannot  go  to  her!  Oh,  my  outraged 
Heavenly  Father!  Give  me  the  box — under  my 
pillow." 

Laurens  had  seen  men  die,  but  never  one  with 


46  THE  IVORY  BALL 

his  conscience  galling  him,  and  the  mental  distress 
of  the  sick  man  was  more  tragic  than  his  impending 
dissolution.  But  the  cause  was  not  the  business  of 
the  American.  He  reached  under  the  pillow  and 
found  a  small,  plain  teakwood  box;  it  was  some 
three  or  four  inches  square  and  had  a  brass  handle 
on  the  cover.  As  Stillwell  saw  it  he  snatched  at  it 
and  hugged  it  to  his  chest,  his  thin  hands  clutching 
it  with  the  grasp  of  a  miser.  "My  God!"  he  ex 
claimed.  "How  can  I  let  it  go!  How  dare  I  tell 
you!" 

"You  are  not  obliged  to  tell  me  anything,  sir," 
returned  Laurens  soothingly,  though  his  curiosity 
was  fairly  roused. 

"I  must I  must!"  whispered  the  other,  shak 
ing  as  if  palsied.  "The — the  stone  is  of  fabulous 
value !  It  is  for  Josephine.  You  must  give  it  to  her, 
and  you  must  tell  her " 

"What  shall  I  tell  her?"  asked  Laurens,  as  the 
man  hesitated.  He  feared  the  invalid  would  pass 
away  before  he  could  deliver  his  message. 

"The — the  secret.  I — I  will  show  you.  Open 
it — open  it!"  He  held  the  box  toward  the  young 
man ;  his  hands  were  shaking,  his  eyes  shining.  Lau 
rens  began  to  doubt  his  sanity. 

The  cover  was  fastened  with  a  lock,  the  key  being 


THE  IVORY  BALL  47 

attached  to  the  handle  by  a  light  chain.  Laurens 
unlocked  it  and  the  top  was  thrown  up  by  a  con 
cealed  spring,  exposing  an  ivory  ball  embedded  in  a 
bed  of  crimson  velvet.  But  it  was  not  an  exact 
sphere,  being  slightly  ovoid,  and  its  substance  was 
black  with  age.  Laurens  took  it  out,  the  dying  man 
rubbing  his  hands  in  subdued  ecstasy. 

On  one  end  of  the  semi-sphere  and  ornamenting 
the  head  of  a  wonderfully  carved  dragon  was  a  fair 
sized  diamond  of  unusual  cut,  but  the  young  man, 
who  had  traveled  in  the  East,  could  see  nothing  of 
remarkable  value  in  the  gem  which  he  figured  might 
be  worth  five  hundred  dollars,  at  the  most.  The 
major's  rhapsody  regarding  its  fabulous  value  he 
took  to  be  due  to  mental  weakness. 

But,  aside  from  the  stone  the  ball  itself  was  a 
wonder,  the  beautiful  work  on  it  being  too  delicate 
to  follow  without  the  closest  scrutiny.  Laurens  had 
seen  many  remarkable  Oriental  carvings,  but  none 
like  this;  it  was  the  most  exquisite  that  had  ever 
come  under  his  eye,  and  it  needed  a  strong  magni- 
fying-glass  to  bring  out  its  details.  Each  tiny  scale 
on  the  writhing  dragon  stood  clear  from  its  fellow, 
and  the  tracery  of  vine  and  flower  was  beautifully 
defined  on  the  polished  background,  though  there 
was  but  little  that  had  not  felt  the  tool  of  the  carver. 


48  THE  IVORY  BALL 

'Along  an  intricately  twisted  scroll  were  some  fine 
Chinese  characters  and  the  whc4e  was  a  mass  of  mar 
velous  work — the  puerile  work  of  some  Oriental 
artist  who  must  have  devoted  his  life  to  it. 

"It  is  a  wonderful  ojimi!"  he  exclaimed,  for  a 
moment  forgetting  the  imminence  of  death. 

"It  has  a — a  secret!"  whispered  the  dying  man, 
as  he  stretched  out  a  claw-like  hand  for  the  ball. 
"I  must  tell — Josephine!  I — have  deceived  her! 
I  cannot  die  before  she — knows!" 

"It  is  impossible,"  returned  Laurens.  "I  will  be 
frank  with  you,  sir.  If  you  have  anything  to  say 
you  must  say  it  at  once.  I  am  an  honorable  man  and 
will  serve  you,  if  possible." 

The  other  looked  up  with  a  pitiable  expression  in 
his  dimming  eyes.  "Tell — her Tell  her " 

He  stopped  as  he  was  attacked  by  another  fit  of 
violent  coughing  which  racked  the  emaciated  body. 
Laurens  passed  his  arm  under  him  to  lift  him  to  a 
sitting  position,  and  as  he  did  so  the  ball  fell  from 
his  lax  hand,  his  head  sagged  forward  and  his  jaw 
dropped.  With  a  glance  Laurens  knew  the  man  had 
passed  away. 

He  was  neither  surprised  nor  shocked.  He  eased 
the  dead  man  to  his  back,  picked  up  the  ball,  re 
placed  it  in  the  box  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room 


THE  IVORY  BALL  49 

when  the  Chinaman  appeared  at  the  door.  As  he 
saw  the  box  in  the  young  man's  hand  he  halted,  then 
suddenly  bent  so  low  that  his  shaven  head  almost 
touched  the  floor,  his  black  queue  whipping  out  like 
a  lash. 

"Your  master  has  just  died,"  said  Laurens,  with 
out  appearing  to  notice  the  deep  salutation.  "Cover 
his  face."  But  the  fellow  made  no  immediate  move 
ment  to  obey  and  the  American  passed  out  without 
being  aware  of  the  repeated  genuflexion  made  by 
the  Celestial,  nor  was  he  aware  of  the  snake-like 
glitter  of  the  narrow  eyes. 

Not  greatly  to  his  surprise  Laurens  found  the  girl 
leaning  on  the  edge  of  her  low  bed,  one  hand  play 
ing  over  her  bandaged  shoulder,  a  dazed  look  in  her 
fine  eyes. 

"I  am  con — confused,"  she  began.  "I  must  have 
fainted." 

"You  did,"  returned  the  young  man,  smiling. 

"I I  don't  understand  how " 

"It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should,  at  present; 
but  you  were  shot  through  the  shoulder." 

"And  you  did  this?"  she  asked,  her  pale  face  sud 
denly  flaming,  as  she  touched  the  bandage. 

"I  did,"  was  the  blunt  retort.  "And  I  learned 
you  were  not  a  boy.  I  have  no  apology  to  make 


50  THE  IVORY  BALL 

under  the  circumstances,  but  you  need  not  let  my 
knowledge  trouble  you.  I  advise  you  to  continue 
being  a  boy  as  long  as  you  are  here.  Discussion 
of  my  reasons  is  not  so  important  now  as  what  I 
must  tell  you.  Your  father  just  died.  I  was  with 
him." 

If  Laurens  looked  for  an  outburst  of  surprised 
sorrow  or  tears  he  was  disappointed.  The  girl  did 
not  start;  she  did  not  even  show  regret,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  grief. 

"Did  he  tell  you  he  was  my  father?"  she  asked 
calmly. 

"He  called  you  his  son." 

"But  he  was  not  my  father;  he  was  my  father's 
half-brother.  I  had  no  affection  or  even  regard  for 
him,  nor  he  for  me.  We  both  understood.  For  the 
time  each  was  necessary  to  the  other." 

"Yes !  I  can  surmise  that  from  a  few  words  of 
his — at  the  end  when  he  tried  to  speak.  But  it  came 
suddenly  when  he  was  trying  to  tell  me  something 
regarding  this "  Laurens  held  out  the  box  con 
taining  the  ivory  ball,  and  the  girl's  eyes  opened 
wide  at  sight  of  it.  Before  she  could  speak,  could 
question,  the  man  went  on: 

"He  told  me  to  give  it  to  you,  and  intimated 
he  had  something  to  confess.  He  gasped  something 


THE  IVORY  BALL  51 

about  a  secret  connected  with  it,  and  I  am  certain  the 
confession  was  @n  the  tip  of  his  tongue  when  he 
was  taken  with  the  final  hemorrhage  which  took 
him  off." 

The  dilated  pupils  of  the  girl's  eyes  as  she  had 
first  looked  at  Laurens  and  the  box  he  held,  nar- 
"owed  to  pinpoints  of  questioning. 
"He  had  this?"  she  asked. 

"He  had  it — under  his  pillow — and " 

"Then  he  had  stolen  it!     It  is  mine!     I  thought 
I  lost  it  weeks  ago!" 

"In  that  case  of  course  you  know  the  secret." 
"No,  I  do  not,"  she  answered.  "I  know  little 
more  than  that  my  father  obtained  it  while  we  were 
in  China  shortly  after  the  Boxer  troubles.  I  was 
very  young  then — too  young  to  be  taken  into  any 
confidence  of  his.  When  we  met  my  uncle  Stillwell 
in  Guanajuato,  he  was  traveling  for  his  health.  I 
know  my  father  told  him  of  some  secret  he  had  dis 
covered  in  connection  with  the  ball.  He  was  about 
to  tell  me,  too,  when  he  died  suddenly  from  a  stroke 
of  apoplexy.  I  know,  too,  that  the  man,  a  drunken 
German,  from  whom  my  father  purchased  this  for 
a  small  sum,  was  killed  soon  after  parting  with  it. 
Fung  Wang,  who  has  been  with  us  ten  years  and 
remembered  all  the  circumstances  of  our  Chinese 


52  THE  IVORY  BALL 

trip,  told  me  that.  There  is  something  strange 
about  it.  My  father  hinted  that  some  day  it  would 
make  my  fortune,  but  how " 

She  broke  off  with  a  mirthless  laugh  and  a  shrug. 

"Well,"  declared  the  man,  "if  there  was  a  secret 
that  would  romantically  come  up  to  what  fictionists 
tell  of  Chinese  ojimls,  and  such,  and  make  your  for 
tune,  I'm  afraid  you're  due  to  lose  it,  for  it  looks  as 
though  the  secret  had  finally  died  with  your  uncle, 
Miss — Miss " 

"My  name  is  Josephine  Dalzell,"  she  volun 
teered.  "My  father  was  a  retired  colonel  of  the 
United  States  Army,  and  had  a  passion  for  travel 
ing.  I  have  no  mother,  and  now  no  relative.  As  for 
the  secret  dying — I  believe  Fung  Wang  knows  some 
thing  of  it.  Once  he  saw  the  ojlml  in  my  father's 
hand  and  at  sight  of  it  he  bowed  to  the  floor,  but 
he  would  never  tell  us  why."  She  spoke  with  a 
naivete  that  was  feminine  and  attractive. 

"When  Fung  Wang  saw  it  in  my  hand  he  did  the 
same  to  me,"  said  Laurens,  handing  the  box  to  the 
girl.  "May  I  now  ask  why  you  adopted  boy's 
clothes?" 

"My  uncle  advised  it,  and  I  was  willing.  We 
were  in  a  rough  community  and  a  rough  country  and 
had  much  riding  to  do.  There  were  both  danger 


THE  IVORY  BALL  53 

and  inconvenience  in  my  own  costume.  I  fare 
better " 

"I  see!"  interrupted  Laurens,  as  he  marked  the 
increasing  color  in  her  cheeks,  and  was  about  to  tell 
her  to  talk  no  more,  when  he  heard  Callahan  on  the 
ramada. 

"Lie  down!  Quick!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  had 
better  not  be  open  to  that  brute's  insults.  And  you 
have  not  recovered — you  are  feverish." 

The  girl  obeyed,  and  Laurens  left  the  room,  clos 
ing  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  RESPITE 

CALLAHAN  came  in,  his  face  black  with 
anger,  but  before  he  could  explode  Laurens 
spoke.  "The  major  is  dead,"  he  said. 

"Thin  th'  major  should  thank  God  fcr  that 
same !"  returned  the  Irishman.  "D'ye  know  what 
we're  up  ferninst?"  Without  waiting  for  a  rerly, 
he  burst  out  into  a  recital  of  his  own  troubles. 

"Not  a  man  left  on  the  place  save  me  runt  av 
a  cook,  an'  he's  scared  stiff.  Me  foreman,  Domi- 
nick,  an'  ivvery  peon,  except  thim  out  on  range,  have 
desarted  an'  gone  off  wid  thim  divils.  To-morrow 
I  ride  south  after  the  rest  of  me  han's.  Do  ye  want 
to  go  wid  me?" 

"But  the  boy  can't  travel,  and " 

"Damn  the  boy!"  was  the  scowling  return.  "Lave 
him  an'  the  chink  take  their  chances  wid  me  cook." 

Laurens  did  not  hesitate.  The  thought  of  leav 
ing  the  wounded  girl  to  the  mercy  of  the  Chinaman 

54 


THE  RESPITE  £5 

decided  him.  He  did  not  have  to  remember  the 
promise  he  had  given  to  the  man  lying  dead  in  the 
next  room.  "I  will  stay  here,  Mr.  Callahan."  The 
Irishman  looked  him  up  and  down.  "Ye  be  a  domn 
fool !"  he  exclaimed  disgustedly,  and  swung  from  the 
room. 

Laurens  was  in  no  shape  to  meet  any  new  emer 
gency  that  night,  and  fortunately  none  arose.  In  a 
state  of  utter  exhaustion  he  threw  himself  on  the 
floor  and  slept  the  sleep  of  health  and  fatigue.  And 
all  the  following  day  his  brain  was  fogged  with 
drowsiness.  He  saw  little  of  Callahan;  he  ate  some 
thing  brought  by  a  diminutive  Mexican  with  a  face 
more  like  a  monkey's  than  a  man's,  and  paid  him 
liberally  for  future  attention,  for  which  the  dwarfish 
peon  was  ready  to  kiss  his  feet.  He  attended  the 
girl  and  marked  her  increased  fever,  but  in  spite  of 
it  she  refused  to  remain  in  bed.  When  at  noon  the 
pseudo  major  was  buried  with  the  help  of  the  cook 
there  was  no  other  ceremony  than  a  simple  kiss  on 
his  white  forehead,  given  by  his  half-niece — a  kiss 
of  forgiveness,  she  said. 

Then  Callahan  went  off  without  even  a  farewell, 
careless  alike  of  the  comfort  and  safety  of  his  un 
invited  guests,  and  for  three  days  Laurens  prac 
tically  owned  the  abandoned  ranch,  his  only  respon- 


56  THE  IVORY  BALL 

sibility  being  the  girl's  health,  and  that  was  improv 
ing,  in  spite  of  her  lack  of  caution. 

Under  the  conditions  the  two  naturally  became 
friendly,  and  it  was  then  that  Laurens  wondered 
how  he  could  ever  have  mistaken  his  companion's 
sex,  for  even  in  her  male  attire  she  now  showed  the 
feminine  traits  and  graces  which  characterize  the  re 
fined  woman.  That  she  was  both  his  social  equal 
and  his  equal  in  quick  intelligence  Laurens  was  not 
long  in  discovering,  and  it  was  a  delight  to  him  when 
she  sensed  some  fine  point  or  smiled  a  wan  smile  at 
some  joke  he  made  for  her  entertainment.  She  was 
still  very  weak  as  a  result  of  her  fever  and  the 
young  man  treated  her  as  if  she  were  a  child;  but 
he  would  sit  at  the  table  and  look  at  her,  mentally 
picturing  her  with  her  dark  and  wavy  hair  grown 
to  normal  length,  her  lithe  person  clothed  in  proper 
costume,  her  round  cheeks  again  aglow,  and  her 
brown  eyes  lighted  with  interest.  It  was  an  attrac 
tive  vision  and  the  basis  of  it  was  there.  At  those 
times  Laurens  felt  a  strange  warmth  around  his 
heart. 

During  those  three  days  the  two  grew  to  feel 
as  if  they  had  known  each  other  as  many  months. 
They  told  of  the  main  events  of  their  lives  and 
travels;  they  talked  of  almost  everything  under  the 


THE  RESPITE  57 

sun,  avoiding  only  the  personal  touch  of  things  that 
were  so  near  both  of  them  without  them  realizing 
it.  It  was  understood  that  the  first  concern  was  for 
her  to  regain  her  strength;  the  second  for  both  to 
get  into  the  United  States;  but  the  time  to  consider 
how  best  to  get  there  had  not  yet  arrived,  seemingly. 

Laurens  had  not  had  time  to  consider  his  real 
opinions  concerning  Josephine  Dalzell.  He  would 
have  laughed  at  the  idea,  put  bluntly  by  any  one, 
that  she  could,  and  did,  in  this  short  length  of  time, 
mean  more  in  his  life  than  any  other  woman  he  had 
ever  known.  He  knew  that  she  interested  him  a 
great  deal.  He  knew  that  they  were  comrades  in 
distress,  and  that  she  had  aroused  all  his  chivalry 
by  her  helplessness.  But  he  had  no  real  knowl 
edge  about  the  girl.  All  that  he  really  knew  of 
her  from  her  slight  confidences  and  his  own  obser 
vations  was  that  she  was  an  attractive  and  edu 
cated  young  lady,  confessedly  alone  in  the  world. 
She  had  friends  in  San  Francisco,  she  had  said,  and 
felt  sure  she  would  be  amply  provided  for  on  her 
arrival  there. 

What  Miss  Dalzell  knew  was  that  her  comrade 
was  a  gentleman — a  man  of  the  world  and  at  home 
anywhere  in  it,  knowing  England,  France  and  Ger 
many  as  well  as  he  did  his  own  country,  and  having 


58  THE  IVORY  BALL 

more  than  a  smattering  of  China  and  Japan;  that 
his  friends  were  few,  his  acquaintances  many,  and 
she  surmised  from  her  own  instinct  and  his  conver 
sation  that  he  had  probably  never  been  entangled 
in  any  affair  of  the  heart.  She  appreciated  his  treat 
ment  of  her,  too,  and  the  fact  that  he  had  made  no 
attempt  to  push  her  confidence. 

They  were  sitting  on  the  ramada  on  the  evening 
of  the  third  day,  watching  the  flight  of  the  gulf 
clouds  and  the  changing  colors  of  the  distant  moun 
tains.  Both  were  inclined  to  be  silent.  Those  days 
and  such  evenings  were  making  a  halcyon  epoch  in 
their  lives.  Finally  Laurens  pointed  to  where  a 
bullet  had  drilled  a  hole  in  the  adobe  wall  of  the 
building,  and  indicated  the  smashed  window  in  what 
had  been  the  "major's  room." 

"How  came  that  shutter  open  at  the  time  you 
were  wounded?"  he  asked. 

"I  hardly  know,"  she  replied.  "My  uncle  had 
called  me  to  him  and  I  spoke  to  him.  Then  I  heard 
the  shutter  open.  As  I  turned  to  learn  the  cause  I 
was  shot.  That  is  all  I  remember." 

"Do  you  think  it  was  the  Chinaman  who  deliber 
ately  opened  it,  to  take  a  chance  to  peek  out  or  some 
thing?"  was  Laurens'  query. 


THE  RESPITE  59 

For  a  moment  she  seemed  to  be  in  deep  thought, 
and  her  forehead  wrinkled  as  though  those  thoughts 
were  not  welcome  ones. 

"I've  been  thinking,"  she  said  finally,  "thinking 
and  wondering.  If  Fung  Wang  opened  that  shutter 
purposely  for  me  to  be  killed,  I  cannot  make  out 

his  reason,  and  yet  it  seems Oh,  I  can  hardly 

believe  that,"  she  added  wearily.  "Why  should  he 
have  wanted  me  killed?" 

Before  Laurens  could  express  his  indignation  of 
the  suspicion  she  had  roused  against'the  Oriental, 
he  was  stopped  by  the  sight  of  two  horsemen  who 
came  tearing  along  the  trail  beyond  the  pecans. 
They  were  coming  at  full  speed  and  he  instantly 
recognized  one  as  Callahan,  the  other  being  a  Mexi 
can,  as  he  knew  by  the  flying  serape  and  uncouth 
sombrero.  The  young  man's  heart  jumped.  Men 
do  not  ride  like  that  unless  something  serious  urges 
them.  The  Mexican  turned  from  the  trail,  speed 
ing  toward  the  corral  and  quarters,  but  Callahan 
came  straight  on  to  the  house,  reining  in  on  reach 
ing  the  ramada,  his  horse  sliding  in  the  abruptness 
of  his  halt. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  FLIGHT 

HE  did  not  dismount,  and  his  face  was  aflame 
with  hurry  and  excitement,  as  it  had  good 
cause  to  be. 

"So  ye're  still  here!  Hurry!"  he  shouted.  "Yon 
der  goes  me  foreman,  Dominick.  He  overtook  me 
two  miles  down  the  thrail,  him  ridin'  like  the  wind. 
He  tells  me  that  the  divils  do  be  comin'  back  this 
night  to  clane  me  out,  kill  ivvery  soul  an'  bur-r-n 
iwery  buildin'  to  pay  for  the  work  ye  did  to  young 
Villa!  They're  but  tin  miles  off — fifty  o'  thim!" 
The  words  poured  from  him  in  an  unpunctuated 
stream. 

Laurens  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  said  he,  his  tones 
tense. 

"Do?  There  be  but  wan  thing  to  do.  We  can't 
defind  the  house  agin  the  rush  av  thim !  We've  got 
to  git  out — an'  domned  sudden!  And  there's  but 
one  chanct,"  he  yelled,  wheeling  his  horse.  "We've 

00 


THE  FLIGHT  61 

got  to  aim  fer  Fort  Hancock.  'Tis  across  the  hell 
o'  the  Flerro  desert." 

"Across  the  desert!" 

"Aye,  where  else?  An'  iwery  wan  fer  himself. 
There'll  be  no  chuck-wagon,  so  ye'll  hov  to  rustle 
yer  own  grub,  if  ye  can  find  it.  I've  no  horse  for 
ye,  but  the  bhoy  has  the  major's  outfit  an'  he'll  loan 
ye  the  old  man's  «mule." 

He  spurred  his  mount  and  disappeared  behind  the 
house. 

The  suddenness  of  it  all  came  upon  Laurens  like 
a  clap  of  thunder.  He  turned  to  the  girl.  Her  face 
had  lost  its  last  trace  of  color  and  she  was  trembling. 

"We  must  get  ready  at  once,"  said  the  young  man, 
speaking  sharply. 

"Can — can  I  make  the  ride?"  she  faltered.  "I 
am  very  weak;  it  is  over  the  desert,  and  Flerro  is 
terrible." 

"I  know.  But  it  would  be  more  than  terrible  to 
remain  here,"  returned  Laurens,  tingling  with  ex 
citement  as  he  pictured  the  bandits  hurrying  toward 
the  ranch.  "Neither  hell  nor  high-water  can  shake 
off  the  devils  this  time !  The  place  is  doomed !  You 
must  go — or  I  must  stay  here  with  you.  I  prom 
ised  your  uncle  not  to  desert  you,  and — and  I  have 
a  selfish  interest.  Will  you  trust  yourself  with  me?" 


62  THE  IVORY  BALL 

As  he  spoke  the  color  came  back  to  her  cheeks 
in  a  rush.  She  gave  him  one  glance.  "I  will  go," 
she  said. 

The  tragic  situation  was  one  to  which  the  ex-naval 
officer  had  been  schooled  to  meet.  He  knew  that 
there  were  but  few  preparations  which  could  be 
made  for  the  flight,  but  he  was  on  edge  for  fear 
the  Irishman  should  go  before  he  and  the  girl  could 
get  ready.  With  his  own  hands  he  raided  the  cook's 
quarters,  everything  being  thrown  open;  with  his 
own  hands  he  filled  the  sheepskin  water-bag  and 
fastened  it  on  the  pack-horse  belonging  to  Miss  Dal- 
zell.  He  was  aware  that  unless  the  party  struck  a 
water-hole  the  supply  would  last  but  twenty-four 
hours,  and  Melton  had  mentioned  the  journey  to 
Fort  Hancock  as  being  a  matter  of  three  days. 

In  what  he  did  he  had  no  help,  for  the  calm- 
faced  Chinaman  would  not  lift  a  finger  for  him. 
Laurens  cursed  him  up  and  down  as  the  fellow  went 
about  providing  for  himself,  doing  it  without  hurry. 
The  unmoved  Celestial  completed  his  own  arrange 
ments  and  before  his  mistress  was  mounted  he  came 
from  the  house,  got  on  his  horse  and  took  the  reins 
of  the  pack  animal,  looking  as  stolid  and  undisturbed 
as  an  ox. 

It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock  when  the  last  thing 


THE  FLIGHT  63 

was  done.  Laurens  lifted  the  girl  to  her  saddle,  and 
then  Fate  put  a  question  into  his  head.  "Have  you 
the  ivory  ball?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

She  looked  startled.  "No,"  she  whispered.  "In 
my  hurry  I  forgot  it.  Last  night  I  hid  it  under  the 
mattress  of  my  bed." 

Laurens  looked  toward  the  corral  where  he  saw 
Callahan  gesticulating  to  his  foreman  and  the  mon 
key-faced  cook.  They  had  not  yet  mounted  and  he 
knew  he  had  a  few  moments  to  spare.  Without  a 
word  he  ran  back  into  the  deserted  ranch  house  and 
by  the  sense  of  feeling,  for  the  interior  was  dark, 
he  found  the  box.  Why  he  opened  it  at  that  time 
he  could  not  have  told,  the  box  not  being  his,  but 
open  it  he  did,  and  his  fingers  felt  only  the  velvet 
lining. 

The  box  was  empty.    The  ball  was  gone. 

As  Laurens  realized  this  he  was  suddenly  seized 
with  the  same  sense  of  impending  disaster  which  had 
beset  him  on  the  stoppage  of  the  train.  For  a  mo 
ment  he  stood  in  the  dark  room  trembling  like  a 
frightened  child,  and  then  he  heard  the  Irishman 
calling.  With  a  curse  for  his  own  weakness  he  thrust 
the  box  into  his  wide  pocket,  ran  out  and  climbed 
into  the  saddle  of  the  great  Spanish  mule  which  had 
belonged  to  Josephine's  uncle. 


64  THE  IVORY  BALL 

He  did  not  once  speak  of  his  discovery.  In  the 
face  of  the  tragic  outlook  the  loss  of  the  ball  did 
not  appear  to  be  a  matter  of  paramount  importance. 

A  few  moments  later  the  group  of  doomed  build 
ings  was  left  behind,  every  window  and  door  being 
closed  to  make  it  appear  that  the  place  held  its 
garrison  for  defense.  It  was  Laurens'  idea.  The 
bandits  would  approach  cautiously,  and  the  longer 
they  maneuvered  around  the  empty  house  the  longer 
their  delay  in  pursuit. 

To  save  their  horses  for  the  future  they  went  over 
the  grassland  at  an  easy  pace,  Callahan  riding  well 
ahead  and  forever  looking  back  as  if  in  fear.  It 
was  a  fair  country  through  which  they  passed  under 
the  mellow  light  of  a  nearly  full  moon  swimming 
in  a  deep  blue  sky. 

Mile  after  mile  they  went  without  a  sign  of  being 
followed  by  the  bandits  and  with  hardly  a  word 
spoken,  and  when  it  at  length  became  certain  that 
they  could  not  be  overtaken  that  night  the  young 
man  drew  his  mule  close  to  the  girl's  mount.  "I 
have  the  box  you  forgot,"  he  said,  in  a  guarded 
voice.  "Are  you  sure  the  ball  is  in  it?" 

"Absolutely.  I  was  looking  at  it  last  night.  You 
found  it  under  the  mattress?" 


THE  FLIGHT  65 

"Yes.  Would  you  care  very  much  if  the  ball  were 
lost?" 

For  a  moment  she  appeared  embarrassed,  wetting 
her  lips,  then,  as  if  in  desperation,  she  answered: 
"I  would,  indeed.  It  was  my  father's  only  legacy 
to  me.  To  be  frank  with  you,  Mr.  Laurens,  I  hope 
and  expect  to  find  its  true  worth  and  sell  it.  I  will 
need  the  money.  I  have  less  than  a  thousand  dollars 
in  the  world." 

"Pardon  me — but  your  uncle " 

"Had  exhausted  his  means  and  was  traveling  on 
the  money  I  loaned  him.  Of  course  that  is  lost.  He 
promised  me  great  things  as  soon  as  we  reached 
New  York." 

It  was  too  delicate  a  subject  to  pursue  with  good 
taste.  Laurens  changed  it.  "Did  you  make  your 
own  bed  this  morning?"  he  asked 

"No.  Fung  Wang  offered  to  and  I  let  him.  He 
is  not  my  servant,  you  know;  after  my  father's  death 
he  became  my  uncle's  valet."  She  suddenly  turned 
to  him.  "Mr.  Laurens,  you  are  hiding  something 
from  me !  You  did  not  find  the  ball !" 

"No.    The  box  was  empty." 

"Then  Fung  Wang  has  it !  He  has  stolen  it,  else 
He  would  have  told  me." 

"I  believe  you  ara  right,"  returned  Laurens,  "and 


66  THE  IVORY  BALL 

if  he  has  it,  as  he  probably  has,  it  is  far  from  being 
lost.  Trust  me ;  I  will  get  it  from  him  if  I  have  to 
take  his  fat  life  with  it." 

"You  will  use  force?  But  Fung  Wang  will  not 
fight." 

"I  don't  care  what  he  does,"  said  Laurens,  setting 
his  teeth.  "If  he  has  the  ojimi  I  will  have  it  from 
him." 

Laurens  had  an  intense  dislike  for  the  Oriental 
and  would  have  welcomed  a  bout  with  him,  though 
he  could  not  force  one.  That  he  had  taken  the  ball 
the  young  man  had  not  the  slightest  doubt;  the 
Chinaman  .s  actions  at  sight  of  the  box  had  showed 
his  great  interest  in  it;  but  what  it  was  to  him  and 
why  he  ran  the  risk  of  almost  openly  stealing  it 
were  mysteries. 

Four  mortal  hours  they  rode  on  without  a  halt. 
Gradually  the  trees  became  scarcer  and  smaller, 
giving  place  to  stunted  shin-oak.  Patches  of  sand 
and  bunches  of  cacti  appeared,  while  the  grass  grew 
thinner  and  poorer  and  the  skinny  grease-wood  be 
came  a  feature.  They  were  nearing  the  arid  land 
lying  east  of  the  sheep  country,  which  stretches  its 
inferno  clear  to  the  banks  of  the  Rio  Grande. 

Absolute  silence  had  fallen  on  the  whole  party. 
The  air  had  grown  fairly  cold  but  was  without  brae- 


THE  FLIGHT  67 

ing  quality.  Several  times  Laurens  saw  the  girl  reel 
in  her  saddle,  but  she  always  greeted  his  inquiring 
look  with  a  wan  smile  and  a  shake  of  her  small 
head.  He  admired  her  grit,  for  he  knew  she  must 
be  suffering  from  weakness,  if  not  pain. 

At  midnight,  to  the  great  relief  of  all,  Callahan 
halted  to  let  the  animals  have  the  last  of  the  grass; 
and  it  was  full  time,  as  it  had  become  plain  to  the 
man  from  the  north  that  the  girl  could  not  hold 
out  for  another  mile  without  rest.  Her  face  in  the 
moonlight  was  like  chalk,  and  as  he  lifted  her  from 
the  saddle  she  almost  fainted.  She  was  completely 
exhausted,  but  not  a  word  of  complaint  passed  her 
white  lips;  and  she  almost  instantly  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep  under  the  blanket  he  tucked  around  her. 

But  there  was  no  sleep  for  Laurens  just  then.  He 
had  his  work  cut  out.  After  picketing  the  mule  he 
looked  around  for  the  Chinaman,  who  had  always 
trailed,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Thinking 
he  might  have  staked  out  his  own  horse  and  the 
pack  animal  near  where  Callahan  had  settled  down 
he  walked  over  the  low  divide.  The  Irishman, 
Dominick  and  the  cook  were  there  but  Fung  Wang 
was  not.  Laurens  noticed  that  the  Chinaman's 
mount  was  missing  with  its  owner.  He  went  up  to 
the  busy  cook  who  was  bustling  over  a  pack,  Calla- 


68  THE  IVORY  BALL 

ban  and  his  foreman  being  some  distance  away. 
"Where's  that  chink?"  he  asked,  and  there  was 
something  in  his  voice  which  demanded  the  Mexi 
can's  attention.  "I  no  see  heem  for  long  time, 
boss,"  he  returned.  "He  taka  hoss — he  go  thata 
way."  He  pointed  toward  the  low  sand  swells  to 
the  north. 

Laurens  did  not  lose  a  second.  Running  back  to 
his  mule  he  flung  saddle  and  bridle  on  it,  and  with 
the  risk  of  following  a  lost  scent,  but  hot  with  in 
dignation,  he  drove  into  the  semi-desert.  The 
Chinaman  had  the  ball  and  he  had  deserted  from 
the  party;  Laurens  knew  it  as  surely  as  if  the  man 
had  told  him. 

He  would  not  have  accomplished  his  end  had  it 
not  been  for  the  clear  moonlight  and  the  patches  of 
barren  sand.  With  them  he  was  able  to  pick  up  the 
careless  trail,  but  it  was  so  long  before  he  sighted 
the  Chinaman  that  he  was  almost  in  a  panic.  At 
last  he  caught  sight  of  the  fat  figure  as  horse  and 
man  crossed  a  hillock,  and  he  instantly  sent  out  a 
hail  to  halt.  The  surprised  Oriental  obeyed  and  a 
moment  later  Laurens  reached  his  side.  He  began 
without  preface. 

"Fung  Wang,  you  no  like  me — I  no  like  you. 
You  run  off  like  one  damn  dog.  I  know  why.  You 


THE  FLIGHT  69 

want  little  ivory  ball  hid  in  bed  you  go  way  with. 
Now  I  want " 

From  his  years  spent  in  China,  Laurens  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  Chinamen  of  the  obvious  type 
of  Fung  Wang  could  only  understand  that  variety 
of  English  known  as  "pidgin."  Though  not  versed 
in  its  intricacies,  he  believed  that  he  could  make  the 
stolid  Chinaman  understand  his  meaning  better  if 
couched  in  simple  words  as  nearly  approaching 
pidgin  English  as  possible.  So  he  held  out 'his  hand 
with  an  unmistakable  gesture. 

"Give  me!"  he  demanded. 

The  -Chinaman  sat  still  on  his  horse  and  looked 
at  the  young  man  silently  for  a  few  moments;  then 
there  passed  over  his  face  the  same  sort  of  spasm 
Laurens  had  noticed  once  before  when  talking  to 
him. 

"Mr,  Laurensv  if  you  will  consent  to  speak  in  your 
native  language  I  think  we  will  get  along  better." 
The  words  were  in  as  clear  and  correct  English  as 
Laurens  himself  could  have  used;  it  was  like  hear 
ing  an  animal  suddenly  talk. 

For  a  moment  the  American  felt  foolish,  but  the 
next  instant  his  anger  flamed  higher,  though  at  the 
same  time  he  felt  a  certain  respect  for  the  man. 

"Then  you  are  no  common  coolie !"  he  exclaimed. 


70  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"You  are  quite  correct,  sir.  I  received  much  of 
my  education  in  your  country." 

"And  you  have  been  masquerading!     Why?" 

"My  purposes  are  my  own  affair,"  was  the  an 
swer,  but  there  was  nothing  of  the  defiant  in  his 
attitude  as  he  sat  in  his  saddle.  Laurens  wondered 
if  his  confidence  came  from  his  being  armed,  but  it 
made  little  difference  to  him. 

"Let  your  purposes  be  what  they  may;  you  have 
the  ball  belonging  to  Miss  Dalzell." 

"Well,  sir?" 

"Have  you  not?" 

"I  refuse  to  answer." 

"But  had  better  not  refuse  to  act.  Get  fron-\ 
your  horse  or  I'll  pull  you  from  it."  As  he  made 
the  demand  he  drew  his  revolver. 

The  Chinaman  at  once  obeyed  and  stood  on  the 
sand  while  Laurens  dismounted  and  stepped  near 
him.  He  was  rather  puzzled  at  the  Oriental's  quick 
compliance  with  orders.  Had  the  fellow  offered  to 
draw  a  weapon  he  would  have  shot  him  like  a  snake. 

"Now,  you  thief,  I  want  the  ball  you  took  from 
this."  With  one  hand  Laurens  held  out  the  teak- 
wood  box,  the  other  being  ready  for  any  act  of 
treachery.  The  apparently  calm  Chinaman  made 
no  return,  only  looking  at  him  through  his  slits  of 


THE  FLIGHT  71 

eyes.  There  was  absolutely  no  emotion  on  the  fat 
face,  and  the  man's  whole  attitude  was  one  of  con 
temptuous  insolence.  Laurens  slipped  both  box  and 
revolver  into  his  pocket  and  threw  off  his  coat. 

"You  damned  pagan,  you  cannot  pretend  to  mis 
understand  me  when  I  tell  you  that  if  you  don't 
produce  that  ball  in  ten  seconds  I  will  take  it  from 
you." 

Not  a  word  was  returned.  The  Chinaman  simply 
stood  there  in  the  moonlight  as  unmoved  and  un- 
moving  as  though  he  were  a  fixture  in  the  landscape. 
His  continued  silence  brought  the  American's  temper 
to  a  climax,  and  without  warning  he  leaped  for  him 
and  caught  him  with  the  force  of  a  football  tackle. 

And  then  Laurens  was  astonished.  The  China 
man  did  not  even  raise  a  hand  when  he  was  grappled 
and  the  athletic  man  threw  him  to  the  ground  as 
easily  as  he  had  many  a  time  upset  a  dummy  on  the 
gridiron,  and  the  Oriental  lay  where  he  fell.  And 
still  without  the  least  resistance  he  allowed  Laurens 
to  go  through  his  clothing.  There  was  no  weapon 
but  a  closed  clasp-knife,  but  the  ball  was  found.  It 
was  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  fine  Chinese  silk. 

Once  the  thing  was  in  his  possession  Laurens 
straightened  himself  and  cursed  the  prostrate  Celes 
tial  as  few  men  are  ever  cursed,  damning  his  ances- 


72  THE  IVORY  BALL 

tors  along  with  him.  "Get  up,"  he  finally  com 
manded. 

The  other  did  not  move. 

"I  don't  know  who  you  are,"  Laurens  went  on, 
tempted  to  kick  him  if  only  from  disgust  at  his 
supineness,  "but  you  are  not  what  you  seem — a 
servant.  Your  assumed  position  is  a  gigantic  lie! 
Have  you  anything  to  say?" 

The  Chinaman  looked  up  at  him  and  spoke 
calmly:  "Confucius  says:  'He  who  lies  on  the  ground 
cannot  fall  far.'  You  will  remember,  sir,  that  I  have 
not  raised  my  .hand  against  you,  even  in  self-defense. 
You  have  used  violence." 

"I  am  not  likely  to  forget  your  mushiness !  Will 
you  tell  me  about  this  ball  you  stole?" 

At  the  question  something  like  animation  came  to 
the  Chinaman.  He  raised  himself  to  his  elbow  and 
pointed  at  Laurens.  "I  will  tell  you  nothing,  sir, 
at  least  at  present,  and  never  at  your  demand.  I 
have  submitted  to  force,  but  your  God  may  pity  you 
from  this  day  forward.  Confucious  says:  'He  who 
takes  an  ox  must  return  a  horse.'  Go  from  me,  Mr. 
Laurens.  You  think  you  have  won,  but  remember 
another  axiom  of  Confucins :  'A  living  gnat  is  more 
dangerous  than  a  dead  serpent.'  ' 

It  was  a  thinly  veiled  threat  for  the  future.    "You 


THE  FLIGHT  73 

had  better  see  to  it  that,  gnat  as  you  are,  you  keep 
out  of  my  way  in  future." 

Even  as  he  spoke  Laurens  wondered  who  this  man 
was.  Why  did  he  tamely  submit  to  being  assaulted? 
He  was  certain  that  cowardice  alone  did  not  account 
for  it.  If  the  Chinaman  had  intended  to  let  him 
have  his  way  why  had  he  not  given  up  the  ball  and 
saved  himself  additional  humiliation?  They  were 
questions  he  could  not  answer.  But  he  had  a  final 
word  for  him. 

"Fung  Wang,  or  whoever  you  may  be,  from  now 
on  you  will  shift  for  yourself.  I  wish  nothing  fur 
ther  to  do  with  you;  and  if  you  again  approach  the 
young  lady  who  is  under  my  care  you  will  regret 
it  more  than  you  do  that  which  has  just  happened. 
You  understand  me?" 

There  was  no  answer.  Laurens  remounted  his 
mule  and  rode  off  some  distance  before  looking  back. 
Fung  Wang  was  still  on  the  ground,  face  down,  his 
arms  extended  and  his  fingers  clutching  the  loose 
sand — an  attitude  of  deep  despair. 


CHAPTER  VII 
IN  THE  DESERT 

IT  was  still  dark  when  camp  was  broken  and  the 
party  again  started.  The  moon  had  set  and 
the  air  was  bitterly  cold.  The  girl  seemed 
some  better  for  her  rest,  but  she  did  not  appear 
greatly  interested  when  Laurens  told  her  of  his  ad 
venture  with  Fung  Wang.  She  was  too  weak  to  do 
much  talking.  "He  has  no  fight  in  him,"  he  said, 
in  conclusion.  "He  is  a  mush  of  softness.  I  could 
have  stabbed  him  with  a  feather  without  ruffling  its 

beard!  And  yet "  He  stopped  as  he  thought 

of  a  certain  dignity  in  the  man  as  he  lay  on  the  sand 
and  quoted  from  Confucius. 

"I  think  you  did  well  in  ordering  him  to  keep 
away,"  was  about  all  the  girl  said  in  reply. 

Laurens  gave  her  the  ball,  and  not  wishing  to  be 
trammeled  by  the  empty  box,  and  not  caring  to 
throw  it  away,  he  tied  it  to  the  horn  of  the  girl's 
saddle. 

74 


IN  THE  DESERT  75 

When  the  sun  sprang  up  in  a  brazen  sky  they  had 
advanced  well  into  the  desert  proper,  there  now 
being  nothing  in  sight  but  sand,  cactus,  greasewood, 
and  a  little  sage  and  bunch-grass.  They  were  well 
past  the  indefinite  line  where  the  inferno  of  scarcity 
merges  into  the  veritable  hades  of  the  Flerro  Desert, 
the  sister  of  the  great  American  waste  north  of  the 
Rio  Grande.  There  is  an  actual  horror  to  the  land, 
but  it  is  a  horror  that  is  fascinating;  and  it  holds 
a  peculiar  beauty  of  distance,  of  form,  of  color, 
which  has  lured  many  a  curious  victim  into  its  capa 
cious  maw. 

It  is  a  tragic  part  of  God's  footstool.  The  few 
living  things  which  spring  from  the  earth  take  an 
early  look  at  the  world  and  cease  growing,  then  put 
on  thorns  to  meet  the  conditions  of  scarcity  and  save 
themselves  from  annihilation.  Treachery  is  every 
where.  It  lurks  under  a  sage  brush  in  the  shape  of 
the  venomous  side-winder;  it  is  in  the  white  dust, 
the  alkali  of  which  sears  like  a  hot  iron.  It  is  even 
in  the  sky.  At  night  the  heavens  draw  very  near 
and  the  stars  shine  with  a  brightness  peculiar  to  the 
region;  it  is  like  the  smile  of  a  lovely  woman.  But 
by  day  the  terrible  sun  lashes  the  land;  the  sky 
changes  its  humor;  it  is  no  longer  feminine  in  its 
softness;  it  is  a  fury. 


76  THE  IVORY  BALL 

The  travelers  found  these  conditions.  When  the 
sun  rose  the  chill  of  the  night  was  almost  instantly 
dispelled  and  the  heavens  blasted  them.  Laurens 
had  known  heat  in  the  tropics,  but  it  was  as  nothing 
to  that  of  the  Flerro  Desert;  and  his  thirst  was  in 
tolerable.  He  had  looked  for  the  Chinaman  and 
failed  to  see  him;  but  when  broad  day  came  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  him  the  young  man  was  worried 
a  trifle,  for  he  had  not  meant  to  drive  him  to  perish 
alone  in  that  horrible  land.  The  girl  showed  little 
interest  in  anything,  and  before  half  the  morning 
had  passed  she  looked  as  if  she  might  faint  and  fall 
from  her  horse  at  any  moment.  Laurens  watched 
her  carefully,  giving  her  quantities  of  water,  and 
undoubtedly  his  attention  saved  her  from  complete 
collapse  that  day.  He  dreaded  to  think  of  the  day 
to  follow. 

At  sunset  they  came  upon  a  water-hole,  but  it 
was  as  dry  as  a  sun-baked  stirrup-leather.  Even 
Callahan  looked  blank  and  Laurens  was  fairly 
frightened;  his  store  of  water  was  two-thirds  gone 
and  it  would  be  two  more  days  to  Fort  Hancock. 
He  feared  for  the  girl;  he  feared  for  himself,  and 
began  to  feel  sure  that  his  charge  would  never  get 
to  the  Rio  Grande,  even  if  the  already  dragging 
animals  did  not  give  out.  He  hunted  up  the  Irish- 


man  to  ask  hirrt  about  the  next  water-hole  and  found 
him  standing  over  the  clean  bones  of  a  human  skele 
ton  lying  a  few  hundred  feet  from  where  they  had 
camped  for  the  night. 

It  was  an  uncanny  sight,  under  the  conditions.  In 
the  center  of  the  forehead  of  the  bleached  skull  was 
a  hole  the  size  of  the  young  man's  thumb  and  he 
knew  it  had  been  made  by  a  bullet. 

"Apache  work?"  he  asked,  speaking  to  the  Irish 
man  for  the  first  time  that  day.  Callahan  turned 
his  bleary  red  eyes  on  him  and  Laurens  saw  he  had 
been  drinking. 

"Not  on  yer  life!"  was  the  growling  return. 
"Injuns  don't  work  that  way,  an'  they's  been  no 
Apache  outrage  fer  two  year!  Ye  can  see  that  the 
slats  o'  this  felly  lie  on  top  o'  the  ground,  so  'tis 
not  long  since  he  croaked." 

"Was  it  murder?" 

"Divil  a  bit  o'  murder!  He  was  plugged  t' rough 
the  brain  by  some  wan  who  wanted  to  do  him  a 
favor.  Likely  he  was  dyin'  o'  thirst  or  fever,  an* 
his  party  couldn't  wait,  seein'  the  water-hole  was 
dry.  'Twould  have  finished  thim  all  if  they  had  to 
play  nurse  to  a  helpless  man." 

"And  they  killed  him  rather  than  desert  him 
alive?" 


78  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"Shure !"  said  Callahan.  "An'  I  wud  do  the  same 
fer  ye — or  anywan.  There'll  be  no  waitin'  fer 
thim  that  goes  down;  let  me  tell  ye  that. 

"Hav'  a  dhrink."    He  held  out  a  flask  of  whisky. 

"No,"  said  the  young  man,  recoiling.  "Where  is 
the  next  water-hole?" 

"God  knows — I  don't,"  was  the  ready  return. 
"We've  a  chanct  to  come  to  wan;  that's  all  I  can 
say."  He  laughed  and  put  the  flask  to  his  lips. 

In  utter  dejection  Laurens  went  back  to  camp. 
Within  an  hour  Callahan  was  drunk,  and  Dominick 
and  the  cook  went  to  sleep  in  fine  disregard  of  the 
conditions.  After  seeing  that  the  girl  was  well 
wrapped  up,  Laurens  flung  himself  on  the  ground 
and  followed  suit. 

They  were  up  early  next  morning  and  greatly  to 
the  young  man's  relief  the  young  woman  looked 
some  better,  though  she  was  but  the  shadow  of  her 
self.  Not  a  word  of  complaint  did  she  utter,  but 
it  was  clear  that  her  vitality  was  low.  After  a  few 
mouthfuls  of  food  Laurens  hustled  to  start  and  on 
going  to  the  water-skin  to  lash  it  on  the  pack-horse 
he  made  a  discovery  that  nearly  bowled  him  over. 

For  the  water-bag  was  gone.  He  had  filled  the 
girl's  individual  bottle,  and  his  own,  the  night  be 
fore,  and  had  given  a  little  to  the  animals,  then 


IN  THE  DESERT  79 

placed  it  on  top  of  the  pack.  But  it  was  no  longer 
there.  He  thought  that  perhaps  the  Mexicans  had 
stolen  his  supply  and  he  quietly  searched  the  camp 
for  it,  but  could  not  even  find  the  empty  skin.  He 
was  panic-stricken,  but  said  nothing  to  Callahan,  who 
glowered  at  everything  as  he  sat  on  the  sand,  his 
red  eyes  like  fire.  It  would  be  useless  to  face  the 
explosion  which  would  come  if  he  accused  anyone 
of  the  theft  of  his  water  supply.  "Where's  that 
domned  chink?"  asked  the  Irishman,  roaring  out  the 
question. 

"I  don't  know.  I  haven't  seen  him  since  night 
before  last,"  returned  Laurens,  his  heat  turning  to 
ice  as  a  glimmer  of  the  truth  came  to  him. 

"The  divil  fly  off  wid  him,  wherever  he  is!" 
laughed  Callahan.  The  young  man  turned  away. 
He  knew  that  practically  the  same  indifference 
would  be  shown  if  he  told  the  Irishman  of  his  loss. 
He  went  back  to  the  girl,  sick  at  heart,  but  he  dared 
not  tell  her.  Tragedy  seemed  to  lay  close  ahead. 

And  into  it  they  drove.  There  was  nothing  else 
to  do,  and  all  that  day  was  like  a  horrible  dream  to 
Laurens.  The  night  had  brought  its  usual  cold,  but 
by  noon  the  heat  was  at  least  130  degrees  and  the 
excessively  dry,  hot  air  sapped  all  moisture.  The 
young  man  was  half  crazed  by  thirst,  but  he  had 


80  THE  IVORY  BALL 

sense  enough  to  cherish  the  last  of  the  nauseous 
fluid  in  his  bottle  though  he  was  beset  by  an  over 
whelming  desire  to  drink  it  all  at  once.  His  only 
hope  was  to  come  upon  a  water-hole.  To  stop  now 
meant  death. 

No  one  spoke  without  necessity.  Lips  were 
cracked  and  tongues  were  like  dry  bones.  Miss  Dal- 
zell  sat  on  her  drooping  horse  like  a  corpse  lashed 
to  the  saddle,  her  eyes  without  expression,  her  face 
like  stone.  The  first  animal  to  fall  was  Laurens' 
pack-horse.  It  went  down  with  a  groan  and  was 
soon  followed  by  one  of  Callahan's,  but  on  they  went 
without  attempting  to  shift  the  burdens,  leaving  the 
beasts  to  the  vultures. 

But  for  all  the  young  man's  misery  he  was  not 
entirely  dead  to  the  sinister  beauty  of  the  terrible 
land.  The  distances  were  glowing  with  purples  and 
delicate  crimsons,  and  the  mirage  shifted  its  alluring 
pictures  on  the  screen  of  the  quivering,  superheated 
air;  but  it  did  not  deceive  him.  They  were  now 
strung  out  far  apart,  Laurens  and  the  girl  half  a 
mile  in  the  rear  of  the  others  and  often  losing  sight 
of  them.  The  great  Spanish  mule,  a  giant  of  an 
animal,  showed  signs  of  distress,  while  the  girl's 
mount  stumbled  along  with  its  head  hanging  low. 


IN  THE  DESERT  81 

Even  in  the  dimness  of  his  brain  Laurens  knew  it 
must  soon  give  out — and  then  what? 

He  was  too  far  gone  thoroughly  to  realize  con 
ditions;  nothing  lay  heavily  on  his  numbed  mind  and 
much  of  his  suffering  was  already  sub-conscious.  But 
his  objective  agony  was  keen  enough;  he  cursed  the 
blinding,  sweltering,  blasting  sun,  and  at  times  was 
cursed  in  turn  by  visions  of  coolness — watermelons 
with  beads  of  moisture  standing  out  on  them,  the 
pink  pulp  dripping  lusciously.  He  saw  bunches  of 
wet  water-cress,  and  again,  blocks  of  clear  ice  lay  on 
the  sand  in  front  of  him.  He  knew  they  were  de 
lusions  and  that  he  was  failing  mentally.  He  would 
have  given  all  his  wealth  to  have  wallowed  in  the 
filthy,  March  slush  of  a  New  York  gutter.  He  saw 
himself  doing  it. 

The  man  was  dreaming,  but  never  in  his  dreams 
was  it  borne  to  him  that  not  a  great  way  behind,  and 
sometimes  momentarily  in  sight  as  he  came  over  a 
swell  of  sand,  was  the  Chinaman,  imperturbable  and 
calm-faced,  sitting  on  his  horse  whose  nostrils  he 
frequently  wet  from  the  supply  of  water  held  in  the 
two  bags  lashed  to  his  saddle.  His  eyes  were 
almost  always  fixed  on  the  specks  of  humanity  he 
sometimes  saw  in  the  distance,  and  if  one  could  have 


read  those  eyes  they  would  have  seen  in  them 
tenacity  of  purpose. 

The  end  came  suddenly  enough.  It  was  late  in 
the  afternoon  and  the  girl  had,  without  knowing  it, 
drawn  near  to  Laurens.  The  party  ahead  had  long 
been  out  of  sight.  For  some  reason  the  man  awoke 
to  the  fact  that  there  had  come  a  change  in  the  sky 
though  not  in  the  heat;  he  realized  in  a  dull  way 
that  there  was  a  sign  of  coming  relief,  but  he  was 
too  far  gone  even  to  thank  God  for  it.  He  dimly 
knew  the  meaning  of  the  low,  blue-black  bank  of 
clouds  which  had  lifted  above  the  northern  horizon, 
its  top  as  straight  and  level  as  though  ruled.  At 
first  he  had  thought  it  a  mesa,  blue  in  the  distance, 
but  a  few  minutes  later  he  recognized  it  for  what 
it  was — a  coming  storm — a  "norther" — one  of  the 
violent  tempests  peculiar  to  those  latitudes  and 
which  turns  the  tropics  to  the  arctics,  in  an  hour 
perhaps.  He  knew  it  would  bring  wind  and  possibly 
hail  and  rain  on  the  following  day,  but  would  he  live 
that  long?  He  existed  in  the  present  only;  to  him 
there  was  no  future.  He  had  forgotten  the  things 
of  the  day  before;  he  had  forgotten  the  Chinaman, 
the  ivory  ball,  the  fight  with  the  insurrectos.  The 
dull  tragedy  of  the  hour  obliterated  all  else. 

The  sky  was  like  a  demon  as  it  smote  him.    His 


IN  THE  DESERT  83 

mule  stumbled.  He  vaguely  remembered  getting  off 
and  walking  by  its  side  to  ease  the  animal  to  lose 
which  meant  the  end  of  all,  and  he  had  come  upon 
an  outcropping  of  living  rock  jutting  from  the  bot 
tom  of  a  swale.  His  poor  beast  made  a  piteous 
noise  in  his  throat,  and  at  that  instant  Laurens 
heard  the  sound  of  running  water.  It  was  no  freak 
of  his  brain;  it  was  the  noise  of  gushing,  bubbling 
water,  and  it  was  flowing  rapidly  as  if  over  a 
rocky  bed. 

He  stopped  and  looked  around,  locating  the 
source  of  the  wonderful  music  in  an  instant.  A  cleft 
not  two  fingers  wide  lay  at  his  feet  and  from  the 
opening  came  the  subdued  roar  of  a  fast  running 
stream.  Such  anomalous  conditions  are  not  infre 
quent  in  the  desert;  the  land  above  may  be  aflame 
but  under  its  surface  may  run  a  sluice  of  water  and 
give  no  sign. 

Laurens  tried  to  shout  but  his  baked  tongue  and 
dry  throat  did  not  permit  a  sound.  He  dropped  on 
his  knees  and  laid  his  ear  to  the  cleft  and  then 
knew  that  the  water  was  far  beyond  his  reach;  it 
was  a  sunken  river  from  twenty  to  fifty  feet  below 
and  there  was  no  way  of  getting  at  it.  He  had  been 
more  than  half  crazed  before,  but  now  the  suggestive 
sound  made  further  endurance  impossible.  No  mor- 


84  THE  IVORY  BALL 

phine  fiend  ever  reached  for  his  drug  with  half  the 
fervor  he  reached  for  his  water-bottle,  willing  to 
sacrifice  the  future  to  the  present.  In  a  frenzy  of 
haste  he  tore  out  the  cork  and  the  violence  of  the 
act  jerked  the  flask  from  his  hand.  He  saw  it  whirl 
from  him  and  strike  the  rock  on  which  he  stood;  he 
heard  the  splintering  of  glass,  and  the  next  moment 
he  was  stupidly  looking  at  the  fragments  of  the  bot 
tle  and  the  damp  spot  where  the  trickle  of  water  had 
almost  instantly  disappeared. 

Then  he  went  to  pieces.  He  tried  to  give  one 
mighty  yell,  and  tearing  off  his  cap  flung  it  far  from 
him,  the  first  clear  sign  of  a  desert-locoed  brain,  and 
then  he  became  aware  that  he  was  clutching  a  bottle 
and  swallowing  great  gulps  of  a  warm,  slimy  fluid 
which  tasted  like  nectar. 

When  a  man  is  demented  by  desert  thirst,  water 
is  a  quick  remedy,  even  moistening  the  tongue  turn 
ing  him  from  madness  to  sanity  almost  instantly.  So 
the  slimy  water  he  had  taken  acted  like  magic  on 
Laurens.  He  came  to  himself  and  saw  the  girl 
standing  by  his  side. 

And  then  he  knew.  He  stared  at  her  and  at  the 
empty  bottle  in  her  hand,  but  he  did  not  even  thank 
her.  Her  beauty  was  gone,  her  eyes  sunken,  her 
cheeks  fallen  in,  her  lips  swollen,  cracked  and  dark. 


IN  THE  DESERT  85 

She  tried  to  speak  to  him  but  only  a  clacking  noise 
came  from  her  throat,  and  as  Laurens  looked  at  her 
she  slowly  reeled  sidewise  and  fell  on  the  sand  by 
the  edge  of  the  rock. 


CHAPTER  VII 
A  CLIMAX 

A  her  fall  Laurens  became  keenly  alive.  He 
bent  over  her  but  she  was  entirely  uncon 
scious.  He  chafed  her  hands;  he  called  her 
by  name,  but  by  every  outward  sign  he  believed  her 
to  be  dying,  for  her  breath  was  feeble  and  the  slow 
rise  and  fall  of  her  bosom  almost  imperceptible.  He 
looked  around  in  despair.  Nothing  was  in  sight  but 
the  swells  of  the  desert  and  the  two  animals,  each 
with  its  muzzle  close  to  the  cleft  in  the  rock.  Like 
one  beset  he  mounted  the  mule  and  raced  after  those 
ahead.  The  water  had  revived  him  and  for  the 
moment  he  felt  all  his  old  strength. 

He  now  knew  what  the  girl  had  sacrified  for  him. 
His  own  selfishness  seemed  colossal  and  the  fact  that 
what  he  had  done  was  done  unconsciously  did  not 
relieve  his  sense  of  shame. 

In  less  than  a  mile  he  overtook  Callahan  and  the 
two  Mexicans.  The  Irishman,  far  gone  himself, 
was  in  no  aggressive  mood,  and  when  Laurens  told 

86 


A  CLIMAX  87 

him  that  the  boy  was  down  Callahan  only  nodded 
and  crossed  himself.  "God  help  us  all!"  he  mut 
tered  thickly. 

"But  a  little  water  may  save  him !"  exclaimed  Lau- 
rens,  on  fire  with  hurry.  "Let  me  have  it,  or,  by 
heaven!  I'll  take  it  if  I  die  for  it!" 

The  Irishman  drew  in  his  horse  and  looked  at 
him  with  something  like  despair  in  his  eyes. 
"Wather,  is  ut!  God  knows  ye  might  have  it,  were 
there  a  drop.  Wan  skin  was  used  an'  is  as  dry  as 
me  tongue,  an'  the  other — well,  sor,  this  marnin 
'twas  found  wid  a  thorn  hole  in  the  bottom  an'  is 
as  empty  as  the  head  av  the  man  we  saw  lyin'  in 
his  bones.  Where's  your  own  wather?" 

Laurens  told  him  of  the  unexplained  loss.  Calla 
han  looked  at  him  blankly  for  a  moment  then 
brought  his  great  hand  down  on  his  thigh  with  a 
blow  like  a  pistol  shot.  'Twas  that  domned 
chink!"  he  exclaimed.  "'Twas  Fung  Wang!  He 
hates  me  as  he  hates  ye.  He  stole  yer  bag  in  the 
night,  an'  by  the  same  token  it  could  have  been  no 
thorn  that  emptied  mine!" 

The  information  was  no  great  surprise  to  Lau 
rens,  but  his  heart  went  to  his  boots.  "And  the  boy? 
What " 

"There  is  but  wan  thing  I  can  do  for  the  lad," 


83  THE  IVORY  BALL 

interrupted  Callahan.  "Stay  here."  And  with  that 
he  drove  his  horse  to  where  Dominick  and  the  cook 
had  halted.  Laurens  saw  him  beckon  to  the  fore 
man  and  speak  a  few  words  in  a  low  voice.  The 
man  nodded,  and  turning  his  horse  rode  back  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  young  man  had  come.  Cal 
lahan  returned.  "Where  is  Dominick  going?"  asked 
Laurens. 

"Ye  had  better  stop  here  an'  ask  no  questions," 
was  the  reply,  and  then  the  anxious  man  knew. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  have  sent  him  back  to 
murder  the  boy?"  he  demanded,  his  blood  suddenly 
surging. 

"Ye've  an  ugly  name  fer  a  favor,"  was  the  an 
swer.  "D'ye  mind  the  slats  o'  the  felly  by  the  dry 
wather-hole?  The  only  chanct  ye  hov  to  reach  the 
Rio  is  to  kape  movin' !  Do  ye  look  to  me  to  lay 
by  an'  nur-r-se  the  lad?  He's  past  nur-r-sin',  me 
frind!  Dominick  is  the  only  doctor  fer  him!" 

If  he  said  more  Laurens  did  not  hear  him.  His 
answer  was  an  oath  flung  at  the  Irishman  as  he  dug 
his  heels  into  the  ribs  of  the  mule  and  urged  him 
after  the  Mexican  who  had  already  disappeared. 
When  he  gained  sight  of  him  Dominick  had  reached 
the  rock  and  dismounted  and  Laurens  saw  the  sun 
flash  from  the  barrel  of  the  revolver  he  carried  in 


A  CLIMAX  89 

his  hand.  A  minute  more  and  he  would  have  been 
too  late,  but  he  raised  his  voice  in  a  last  despairing 
shout  which  seemed  to  have  no  power — like  one's 
shout  in  a  dream — but  it  carried.  Dominick  looked 
up  and  saw  him  coming  but  continued  his  walk  to 
ward  the  prostrate  body.  He  was  standing  look 
ing  down  on  it  when  Laurens  threw  himself  from 
his  mule  and  reached  his  side.  "Heem  almos* 
gone,  said  the  Mexican.  "Why  you  come 

back?" 

"Were  you  going  to  kill?"  demanded  Laurens, 
stepping  between  him  and  the  girl.  The  man 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Eet  is  the  signer's  orders, 
my  fren,"  he  returned  in  a  low,  musical  voice. 
"Turn  away,  signor.  Eet  will  soon  be  of  the  past." 
He  cocked  his  revolver  and  made  as  if  to  step 
around  the  young  man  but  he  was  pushed  aside. 
Laurens  thrust  his  white  face  into  the  dark  one  of 
the  other.  "If  you  attempt  to  shoot  that  boy  I'll 
put  a  bullet  into  you !  Sabe  ?" 

"The  signor — he  object?"  replied  the  Mexican, 
opening  his  black  eyes  as  if  in  wonder.  "But,  my 
orders,  signor!" 

"Damn  your  orders !  It  is  my  order  that  you  get 
back  to  your  master  at  once — or  stay  here  forever." 
As  he  spoke  Laurens  drew  his  revolver. 


90  THE  IVORY  BALL 

The  Mexican  understood  the  threat  even  if  he 
failed  to  follow  the  words.  With  a  feeble  smile  and 
another  indifferent  raising  of  the  shoulders  he 
walked  to  his  horse,  mounted  it  and  rode  away  with 
out  looking  around.  It  was  the  last  that  Laurens 
ever  saw  of  him,  Callahan,  or  the  cook. 

He  turned  his  attention  to  the  girl.  She  was  still 
alive  and  he  thought  her  partially  conscious,  but  she 
was  unable  to  speak  or  even  move  her  lips.  In  the 
hope  that  she  understood  him  he  poured  out  words 
which  he  never  would  have  dared  to  utter  had  the 
conditions  been  different.  He  believed  she  was 
dying,  and  beyond  this  short  outpouring  of  his  soul 
he  could  do  nothing  but  wait  for  the  end.  And  then? 
He  did  not  trouble  himself  about  the  future;  that 
appeared  plain  enough. 

John  Laurens  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  indulge 
in  heroic  moods.  His  motives,  as  they  concerned 
Josephine  Dalzell,  had  scarcely  been  influenced  by 
his  promise  to  the  girl's  uncle  not  to  desert  her. 
From  first  to  last  he  had  acted  from  pure  impulse — 
the  impulse  that  arises  at  the  call  of  sex  to  sex;  or 
perhaps  it  was  the  finger  of  Fate  which  had  guided 
him.  But  he  knew  that  if  he  had  allowed  the  Mexi 
can  to  free  the  girl  of  her  suffering  and  relieve  him 
of  his  self-undertaken  responsibility  he  would  have 


A  CLIMAX  91 

had  murder  on  his  soul.  It  would  have  been  the 
same  as  if  he  had  gone  on  with  Callahan,  leaving  her 
to  die  alone. 

He  sat  by  the  girl's  side  with  his  bare  head  in 
his  hands  until  the  sun  went  down,  only  once  look 
ing  up  and  noticing  that  the  bank  of  clouds  had 
grown  perceptibly  higher.  Night  fell,  and  it  falls 
suddenly  in  that  region.  The  full  moon  rose,  and 
then  came  the  chill — a  chill  that  struck  to  his  mar 
row.  It  aroused  him  to  a  sense  of  his  situation,  and 
it  probably  revived  the  girl,  for  as  he  got  to  his  feet 
he  saw  her  eyes  were  open.  Once  she  moved,  shift 
ing  her  body  slightly  as  if  uneasy,  but  she  could  not 
speak.  Laurens  took  off  his  coat  and  spread  it  over 
her,  the  blankets  being  miles  behind  on  the  dead 
pack-horse,  then  he  walked  up  and  down  to  keep  his 
blood  moving.  His  thirst  was  again  intense,  but  he 
tried  not  to  think  of  it. 

The  moon  was  glorious,  the  sky  tender,  the  bril 
liant  stars  swung  low.  In  the  north  the  black  pall 
crept  slowly  aloft,  so  slowly  that  from  hour  to  hour 
the  man  could  not  mark  their  lift.  There  was  no 
wind  and  the  stillness  was  more  like  a  thing  than  a 
condition;  it  was  a  relief  to  hear  the  crunch  of  sand 
under  foot  and  the  movements  of  the  animals  still 
nosing  the  rock-cleft. 


92  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Laurens  must  have  walked  miles  in  the  night,  and 
that  within  a  space  of  three  hundred  feet,  always 
watching  the  clouds  and  wondering  when  the  storm, 
his  only  hope,  would  break.  It  was  toward  morn 
ing  and  he  was  just  turning  at  the  end  of  his  beat 
when  he  was  astonished  to  see  the  girl  sit  up.  He 
ran  toward  her,  but  before  he  could  reach  her  she 
fell  back  and  became  as  rigid  as  the  rock  near  which 
she  lay. 

Laurens  went  to  his  knees  beside  her,  but  the 
sudden  hope  he  had  entertained  was  at  once  obliter 
ated  when  he  looked  closely  into  her  face.  To  him 
it  was  plain  that  her  attempt  to  rise  had  been  the 
final  and  spasmodic  effort  of  nature.  She  was  dead 
— dead  by  every  test  he  could  make.  Not  a  breath 
came  from  her  swollen  mouth,  not  a  heartbeat  or 
pulse  flutter  could  he  discover,  and  her  wide-open 
eyes  were  like  glass  in  the  moonlight. 

He  was  free  at  last — free  to  take  up  Callahan's 
trail  and  follow  him — free  to  follow  her — free  to 
do  anything.  Save  for  the  girl's  body  and  the  two 
animals  he  was  alone  in  the  hellish  desert. 

For  a  time  he  looked  stupidly  at  the  figure  before 
him,  then  did  what  he  had  not  dared  do  before.  He 
bent  and  kissed  her  white  forehead,  and  then  he 


A  CLIMAX  93 

knew — and  fully  knew — why  he  had  been  stanch  and 
considerate. 

Laurens'  manhood  had  been  sorely  tried  and  the 
last  of  it  seemed  to  desert  him.  He  dropped  on 
the  sand  beside  the  still  body  and  his  own  shook 
under  dry  sobs,  for  there  was  no  moisture  for  tears. 
He  was  like  a  stricken  child,  but  he  was  no  longer 
frightened,  his  mental  and  physical  misery  being 
too  abject  for  fright.  Finally  he  drifted  into  forget- 
fulness  or  imbecility,  and  when  he  again  came  to 
have  a  partial  sense  of  things  it  was  because  the 
risen  sun  was  blasting  his  bare  head. 

He  looked  around  like  one  awakened  by  a  blow. 
The  clouds  had  risen  until  they  reached  to  near  the 
zenith,  a  vast  slate  colored  curtain  which  would  soon 
eclipse  the  sun.  Far  to  the  south  a  few  specks 
drifted  across  the  still  glaring  blue,  growing  larger. 
Laurens  knew  what  they  were.  The  vultures  were 
gathering. 

Nothing  else  had  changed.  The  girl  still  lay  near 
him,  her  eyes  wide,  staring  at  the  sky.  They  troubled 
him.  He  got  from  his  coat  the  handkerchief  he 
had  found,  and  which  he  now  knew  had  been  hers, 
and  spread  it  over  the  upturned  face,  doing  it  rever 
ently.  After  that  he  took  out  his  card,  wrote  on  it 
her  name  and  the  date  of  her  death  and  placed  it 


94  THE  IVORY  BALL 

between  her  stiff  fingers.  It  might  be  found  some 
day,  but  at  present  it  was  her  only  gravestone.  At 
least  he  thought  he  wrote  the  meager  record  of  her 
death,  but  none  could  have  made  out  the  scrawling, 
meaningless  characters.  He  had  done  all  he  could 
and  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  leave,  even  then  recog 
nizing  that  he  owed  a  duty  to  himself. 

He  went  toward  the  animals.  The  girl's  horse 
was  already  down,  having  died  in  the  night,  the 
teakwood  box  still  dangling  from  the  saddle-horn 
where  he  had  tied  it.  As  for  the  ball,  he  was  as 
far  from  thinking  of  it  as  an  insane  man  could  be. 

He  staggered  toward  his  mule,  then  suddenly 
stopped  in  wonder.  For  the  great  animal  had  lost 
its  head.  It  seemed  very  funny  to  Laurens  and  he 
laughed  aloud,  but  it  was  the  cackling  laugh  of  an 
idiot.  He  sat  on  the  ground  and  began  tossing  sand 
into  the  air,  like  a  child  at  play.  Finally  he  saw  the 
Chinaman  appear  from  behind  a  swell.  As  he  came 
on  silently  with  long  strides  he  grew  taller  and  taller 
until  his  head  reached  the  sun  and  darkened  it.  And 
then  Laurens  got  to  his  knees,  grovelled  before  him 
and  prayed  that  he  end  his  suffering.  Suddenly  he 
lurched  forward  and  lay  still. 

For  moments  deathly  silence  reigned  there  in  the 
burning  desert,  with  no  slightest  move  from  either 


A  CLIMAX  95 

of  the  stark,  staring  figures  lying  on  trie  sand.  Then 
from  over  a  hummock  there  appeared  the  head  and 
then  the  full  figure  of  Fung  Wang  as  he  drew  himself 
up  to  full  length  from  the  crouching  position  of  wait 
ing  he  had  assumed  and  cautiously  surveyed  the 
scene  before  him.  His  slippered  feet  slid  over  the 
space  between  him  and  the  body  of  Laurens  and  he 
stood  looking  down  on  it,  in  his  slits  of  eyes  a  light 
of  triumph  and  vindication.  He  did  not  bend  over 
the  body  to  see  if  there  was  one  remaining  spark  of 
life.  Instead,  he  suddenly  spurned  it  with  his  foot 
and  muttered: 

"Dog!  Dog  of  a  Christian!  May  you  find  your 
Christian  hell!" 

Then  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  girl.  But 
there  was  a  different  light  in  the  eyes  as  he  bent 
over  her,  every  faculty  alert  to  see  if  life  still  re 
mained.  There  was  even  much  of  tenderness  in  his 
manner,  a  manner  that  would  have  turned  Laurens 
to  a  fury  could  he  have  seen  it — tenderness  and  an 
air  of  proprietorship,  as  though  he  had  been  wait 
ing  for  this  time.  He  unslung  his  water  bottle  and 
poured  some  of  the  nauseous  fluid  between  her  set 
lips.  Then  he  patiently  bathed  her  face,  chafed  her 
hands  and  again  and  again  moistened  the  baked 
lips.  But  the  girl  did  not  stir;  she  gave  no  sign  of 


96  THE  IVORY  BALL 

life.  It  seemed  that  the  ministrations  of  the  Chinese 
had  come  too  late  to  be  of  any  aid  to  her. 

Still  Fung  Wang  persisted  in  his  attempts  to  re 
vive  Josephine  Dalzell.  A  slight  sigh  and  a  flutter 
ing  of  the  white  eyelids  at  last  told  him  he  was  being 
rewarded. 

As  suddenly  as  she  had  fallen  into  her  state  of 
coma,  the  girl,  under  the  life-giving  influence  of  the 
healing  water,  came  back  to  life.  She  struggled  to 
sit  up  and  looked  dazedly  at  the  Chinaman  who  bent 
over  her,  all  expression  that  he  may  have  had  a 
personal  interest  in  keeping  her  alive  now  gone  from 
his  face. 

"Fung  Wang!"  she  cried.  "You  here? 
What " 

Stolid  as  ever  the  Chinaman's  tones  held  their 
usual  note  of  subservience. 

"All  light,  now,  Missy,"  he  said,  and  his  manner 
was  soothing  and  consoling.  "All  light.  'Melican 
go  daid,  Fung  Wang  he  come,  give  water,  save 
Missy." 

Something  like  a  sob  came  from  the  throat  of 
Josephine  Dalzell  as  she  listened  to  her  servant's 
explanation.  Her  feelings  underwent  a  rapid 
change.  How  she  had  misjudged  this  faithful  man ! 
Only  a  few  hours  it  had  been  since  she  had  virtually 


A  CLIMAX  97 

accused  him  to  Laurens  of  deliberately  wanting  to 
have  her  murdered — and  now  he  had  saved  her  life ! 
There  was  real  gratitude  in  her  eyes  as  she  glanced 
up  at  Fung  Wang. 

"Thank  God,  you  came  in  time,  Fung  Wang!" 
she  murmured  fervently.  "I  thought  I  was  dying — 
was  dead,  perhaps.  If  we  ever  reach  safety,  and 
there  is  ever  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you " 

The  Chinaman's  head  was  turned  away  from  the 
girl,  and  she  could  not  see  the  look  of  vile  animal 
passion  that  crossed  his  ugly  face  as  she  spoke. 
When  he  again  turned  toward  her,  his  countenance 
was  as  bland  and  uncompromising  as  ever. 

"You  better?"  he  asked,  aiding  the  girl  to  sit  up. 
"We  go  now." 

"But — but  Mr.  Laurens!"  She  looked  about  her 
wildly  and  the  horror  came  back  as  she  saw  the  piti 
ful  figure  lying  nearby  on  the  sand. 

"Missy  not  look,"  was  the  Chinaman's  reply. 
"Laurens,  he  go  daid.  We  no  can  do  good." 

In  a  flash  it  all  swept  over  the  girl  what  Laurens 
had  done  for  her.  She  remembered  his  self-sac 
rifice,  his  patient  attentions,  his  determination  never 
to  desert  her.  In  that  same  flash  it  was  brought 
to  her  what  the  man  had  really  meant  to  her,  and 
her  cup  of  bitterness  was  full-  He  had  meant  so 


98  THE  IVORY  BALL 

much — could  have  meant  so  much  more  I  And  now 
he  was  dead!  She  wondered  if  there  could  be  any 
slightest  hope.  She  struggled  to  her  knees  and  then 
to  her  feet,  and  tottered  over  toward  the  man,  but 
the  Chinaman  gently  pushed  her  aside  as  he  knelt 
beside  the  body  of  Laurens,  lifted  up  his  eyelids, 
shook  his  head  after  he  had  felt  the  pulse  and  mur 
mured  regretfully: 

"No  can  do." 

Fung  Wang  pointed  out  the  gathering  clouds  to 
the  girl,  and  the  fact  that  it  was  growing  late  in 
the  day.  They  must  go  on.  They  could  do  no  good 
by  remaining  here  with  a  dead  man.  With  all  the 
sorrow  of  the  world  in  her  eyes  dimmed  with  tears, 
Josephine  Dalzell  realized  that  her  servant  was 
right.  She  could  serve  no  purpose  to  the  dead  by 
remaining  here  to  die  in  the  desert  beside  him.  Ten 
derly  she  lifted  the  coat,  his  coat  which  he  had  put 
over  her,  and  laid  it  gently  across  the  man's  body. 
At  least  she  could  not  leave  him  uncovered  here  in 
the  desert.  Her  tears  came  freely  in  spite  of  the  lack 
of  moisture  in  her  racked  body  as  she  tottered 
above  him.  Then  she  closed  them  as  she  muttered  a 
prayer  for  this  friend  she  had  known  so  short  a 
time,  still  had  known  so  long.  As  she  opened  them, 
the  man's  mute  dead  face  looked  up  at  her.  It 


A  CLIMAX  99 

seemed  to  be  pleading.  She  turned  away,  but  the 
face  still  haunted  her.  At  least  she  could  do  as  much 
for  him  as  he  had  done  for  her  when  he  must  have 
thought  her  dead.  She  took  the  little  handkerchief 
with  her  initial  on  it  and  gently  laid  it  across  his 
face. 

In  a  dream  she  seemed  to  be  hearing  Fung  Wang 
urging  her  to  hurry.  She  tottered  and  would  have 
fallen  as  he  led  her  toward  the  horses  had  it  not 
been  for  his  supporting  arm.  He  had  bodily  to  lift 
the  girl  into  the  saddle  of  one  of  his  horses,  and 
there  she  sat  unsteadily,  clinging  to  the  pommel, 
while  Fung  Wang  looked  about  finally  as  though  not 
to  overlook  anything.  Suddenly  his  eyes  caught  sight 
of  the  box  tied  to  the  saddle  of  Josephine's  dead 
pack  animal.  With  an  air  of  gloating  that  the  girl 
was  too  overcome  to  note  or  to  care  about  if  she 
had,  he  quickly  unfastened  the  box  and  tied  it  to 
his  own  saddle.  He  mounted  and  they  prepared  to 
start,  but  Fung  Wang  saw  that  Josephine  could  not 
go  on  without  aid.  He  rode  his  horse  as  near  hers 
as  possible  and  with  one  arm  he  held  her  up  in  her 
saddle,  as  the  patient,  nearly  done  animals  once 
more  plodded  on  their  weary  way  across  the  desert. 

A  hundred  yards  further  on,  the  girl  with  an  effort 
painfully  turned  her  head  and  glanced  back  at  the 


100  THE  IVORY  BALL 

figure  on  the  sands,  as  her  dry  lips  once  more  mur 
mured  a  prayer.     It  was  her  good-bye. 

Then  she  faced  the  horizon  far  in  front  of  her 
and  Fung  Wang,  and  they  two  rode  on  out  toward 
it — toward  the  country  of  the  Rio  Grande,  and 
safety. 

Though  he  had  for  hours  lain  in  a  state  of 
coma  that  was  an  exact  counterfeit  of  death — a  con 
dition  that  it  would  have  taken  the  expert  and  minute 
examination  of  a  physician  to  prove  not  death,  John 
Laurens  had  not  passed  over  the  line.  Hours  went 
by  as  he  lay  there. 

An  adventuresome  vulture  swooped  down  and  its 
wings  brushed  the  handkerchief  across  the  man's 
face.  Some  uncanny  instinct  of  the  foul  bird  told 
it  its  time  was  not  yet  and  it  settled  down  on  a  sand 
hummock  to  its  death  watch.  It  could  not  be  long. 

The  clouds  that  had  been  gathering,  banked 
themselves  and  hid  the  sun.  Their  blackness  was 
ominous.  The  watching  ghoul  bird  cocked  a  specu 
lative  eye  at  their  piled  up  murkiness,  fluttered  a 
wing  and  mounted,  slowly,  regretfully.  It  knew  that 
the  time  had  come  for  it  to  seek  shelter. 

Then  the  "norther"  broke — broke  in  all  the  fury 
that  the  elements  seemed  to  have  reserved  for 


A  CLIMAX  101 

that  particular  corner  of  the  world.  Rain,  heal 
ing,  reviving  rain  poured  down  on  the  sun-baked 
desert;  it  drenched  the  stiff,  stark  figure  of  the  man 
whose  parched,  distorted  lips  were  hidden  by  a  filmy 
bit  of  linen.  He  stirred  after  a  time.  And  then  he 
came  back — slowly  back  from  the  edge  of  the  dark 
valley  where  his  spirit  had  been  hovering. 

When  he  came  to  himself  he  realized  he  was 
lying  on  the  sand  and  his  clothes  were  soaked  with 
blessed  water;  he  was  shaking  with  the  cold  of  it 
and  something  was  sticking  to  his  face,  blinding  him. 
He  sat  up  and  pulled  the  thing  off,  perfectly  sane 
for  the  moment,  and  he  at  once  recognized  it  as  the 
handkerchief  he  had  laid  over  the  eyes  of  the  dead 
girl.  A  curtain  of  rain  and  hail  was  being  driven 
on  a  strong  wind  and  his  clothing  was  stiffened  with 
ice.  With  difficulty  he  got  to  his  feet  and  looked 
around.  His  mule  was  no  longer  in  sight,  but  the 
carcass  of  Josephine's  horse  lay  where  it  had  fallen, 
now  glazed  with  the  sleet  of  the  "norther"  which 
had  saved  the  man's  life.  Was  it  all  a  dream?  He 
walked  to  where  he  had  left  the  dead  girl  and  then 
dug  his  fingers  into  his  eyes. 

For  her  body  was  gone ! 

He  tried  to  pull  his  poor  wits  together  with  the 
result  of  concluding  that  she  must  have  been  trans- 


102  THE  IVORY  BALL 

lated,  for  there  was  no  track,  not  a  footprint,  lead 
ing  from  the  spot.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  the 
driving  rain  might  have  obliterated  every  sign  of 
her  going.  The  coat  he  had  thrown  over  her  lay 
water-soaked  where  he  had  lain  it.  That  was  all 
he  saw.  The  next  moment  he  was  again  prone  on 
the  wet  sand. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  RESCUE 

COMPANY  F,  of  the  th  United  States 
Cavalry,  was  returning  to  Fort  Hancock 
after  a  raid  on  the  Villistas  who  had  pro 
faned  United  States  territory  in  a  sortie  across  the 
Rio  Grande.  They  had  been  practically  successful  and 
was  going  back  in  the  teeth  of  one  of  the  most  severe 
"northers"  any  of  the  band  had  ever  experienced. 
The  wind  was  a  biting  hurricane,  the  rain  froze  as 
it  fell,  and  gusts  of  hail  caused  every  head  to  bend. 
Behind  the  company  struggled  an  ambulance  drawn 
by  four  mules  and  beneath  its  sleet-covered  canvas 
were  two  men  who  had  been  slightly  wounded. 
Ahead  rode  a  squad  under  Lieutenant  Finch. 

Despite  the  storm  the  lieutenant  was  wide-eyed 
and  curious,  for  it  was  his  first  season  at  a  southern 
post,  and  he  was  the  first  to  catch  sight  of  two  black 
spots  on  the  sand  near  a  ridge  of  rock  jutting  from 
the  bottom  of  a  swale.  He  sent  a  corporal  to  inves 
tigate  and  received  the  report  that  there  was  a  dead 

103 


104  THE  IVORY  BALL 

horse  and  a  live  man  in  the  swale;  that  the  man 
was  clean  crazy  and  was  sitting  on  the  rock  counting 
his  half-frozen  fingers  and  laughing. 

Laurens  had  been  found,  but  he  did  not  know  it. 
When  the  main  body  came  up  he  was  lifted  into  the 
ambulance  and  the  surgeon  worked  over  him  with 
stimulants  until  he  dropped  into  a  deep  sleep.  A 
search  was  made  of  the  vicinity  but  nothing  was 
found  but  a  water-soaked  card  on  which  was  the 
name  of  "John  Laurens,"  and  a  jumble  of  letters 
written  on  its  back,  and  a  coat.  A  cap  was  found 
some  distance  from  the  rock.  The  cavalcade 
went  on. 

In  the  hospital  at  Fort  Hancock  Laurens  raved 
for  twe  weeks  under  as  severe  an  attack  of  brain 
fever  as  the  surgeon  had  ever  known,  and  when  at 
last  the  disease  was  overcome  the  young  man  was 
but  a  wreck  of  himself.  Weeks  more  passed  before 
he  would  talk,  and  then  all  they  could  get  from  him 
was  the  simple  story  of  how  he,  with  a  young  lady, 
an  Irishman  and  two  Mexicans,  had  fled  from  the 
insurrectos  and  attempted  to  cross  the  desert.  He 
said  that  the  three  last  had  deserted  him  and  the 
girl,  wrho  had  died,  but  he  made  no  mention  of  where 
she  had  died,  so  that  his  rescuers  had  no  reason  to 
wonder  that  they  had  not  discovered  her  body.  His 


THE  RESCUE  105 

benumbed  brain  had  not  sufficiently  reacted  to  re 
member  anything  of  the  Chinaman  and  the  ivory 
ball. 

As  a  former  United  States  officer  he  was  given 
the  best  of  care,  and  when  at  length  he  had  grown 
stronger  and  some  two  months  had  passed,  the  post 
surgeon  came  to  him  with  a  bundle. 

"Of  course  we  went  through  your  few  effects, 
Lieutenant,"  he  said.  "Here  are  your  wallet  with 
several  hundred  dollars  in  it,  a  silver  match-box, 
and  a  woman's  handkerchief  which  you  had  stuffed 
into  your  shirt.  And  there  is  an  ivory  ball  wrapped 
in  Chinese  silk.  It  is  the  most  wonderful  bit  of 
Oriental  carving  I  have  ever  seen,  and  the  diamond 
in  the  dragon's  head  must  be  worth  considerable." 

Laurens  started.  "My  God!  Where  did  you  find 
that?" 

"In  a  side  pocket  of  your  coat.  You  had  thrown 
it  off,  along  with  your  cap,  when  you  went  locoed." 

"In  my  coat?" 

"Yes.  Would  you  mind  telling  me  where  you  got 
such  a  superb  bit  of  virtu?" 

"Thanks  for  returning  it,"  said  Laurens,  wearily. 
"I  thought  it  lost,  if  I  thought  at  all.  I  will  tell 
you  about  it  some  time." 

But  he  never  did. 


106  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Laurens'  brain  had  suddenly  cleared.  He  now 
remembered  everything,  but  he  could  not  under 
stand  how  the  ball  could  have  been  found  in  his 
coat.  It  was  more  than  strange.  He  perfectly 
recollected  that  the  last  time  he  had  seen  it  was 
when  he  gave  it  to  Josephine,  after  taking  it  from 
Fung  Wang.  How  had  it  come  to  be  in  his  pocket? 
How  came  her  handkerchief  over  his  face?  What 
had  become  of  the  poor  girl's  body?  He  worked 
himself  into  a  fever  trying  to  clear  the  three  mys 
teries,  but  with  no  other  result. 

He  finally  tried  to  cease  thinking  of  it;  and  the 
curiosity  of  the  surgeon  was  never  satisfied,  for 
almost  at  once  after  returning  Laurens'  belongings 
he  was  ordered  to  another  post. 


CHAPTER  X 
IN  SAN  FRANCISCO 

A  YEAR  passed — a  whole  year,  and  one  that 
marked  little  or  nothing  in  Laurens'  life. 
He  had  recovered  his  health  and  strength, 
but  his  experience  had  left  its  mark;  his  natural 
lightheartedness  was  a  thing  of  the  days  gone  by. 
He  was  quiet,  self-possessed,  undemonstrative,  and 
had  lost  his  passion  for  foreign  travel.  He  sought 
no  close  companions  though  he  soon  joined  the  ex 
clusive  circle  of  the  Wanderers  Club  of  San  Fran 
cisco,  in  which  he  was  well  received  both  for  his 
wealth  and  his  social  position,  though  he  was  hardly 
popular  because  of  a  certain  aloofness  in  his 
character. 

He  was  not  a  man  to  be  passed  unnoticed;  there 
was  an  air  of  quiet  dignity  about  him  which  was 
made  more  effective  by  his  fine  figure  and  finer  face. 
All  his  club-mates  and  acquaintances  agreed  that 
John  Laurens  must  have  had  an  interesting  history, 

107 


108  THE  IVORY  BALL 

if  he  would  tell  it,  but  none  ventured  on  questioning 
him;  he  did  not  appear  to  be  the  kind  of  man  who 
would  either  welcome  or  satisfy  curiosity  regarding 
himself. 

He  had  no  particular  object  in  life  and  was  bored 
as  only  one  with  wealth  but  without  a  definite  am 
bition  can  be  bored,  but  he  plunged  into  no  dissipa 
tion  to  offset  the  monotony  of  his  days.  Once  in  a 
while  he  dipped  or  was  forced  into  some  social  func 
tion,  but  he  had  no  taste  for  gay  society,  though  he 
became  fairly  well  acquainted  in  the  "set"  which 
struck  the  fashionable  pace,  and  by  it  he  was  looked 
upon  as  a  desirable  but  rather  hopeless  parti. 

He  had  elegant  apartments  and  lived  at  ease  on 
the  product  of  the  past  labors  of  his  uncle,  who  had 
been  a  hard  man  riding  rough-shod  over  his  fellows 
without  considering  their  rights.  His  nephew  and 
heir  had  little  love  for  his  memory. 

From  the  day  he  left  Fort  Hancock,  Laurens 
recognized  that  as  a  man  of  honor  he  had  one  duty 
to  perform,  and  that,  to  do  justice  to  the  heirs  of 
Josephine  Dalzell  and  place  in  their  possession  the 
curio  he  held  and  which  might,  or  might  not,  be  a 
valuable  asset.  As  for  looking  at  it  in  the  light  of 
treasure-trove  and  keeping  it  for  either  its  worth 
or  association,  the  idea  never  entered  his  head. 


IN  SAN  FRANCISCO  109 

But  the  more  he  thought  about  its  history,  as  he 
knew  it,  and  the  more  he  examined  the  wonderful 
piece  of  work,  the  more  he  was  persuaded  that  it 
possessed  a  value  far  greater  than  was  represented 
by  the  diamond  in  its  end  or  the  marvelous  delicacy 
of  its  carving.  That  the  beautiful  but  harmless  look 
ing  bit  of  art  might  be  a  cursed  thing  did  not  seri 
ously  occur  to  him,  though  he  recognized  it  as  seem 
ing  to  have  had  a  malign  influence  on  its  former 
possessors.  He  recollected  that  the  soldier,  who 
had  sold  it  for  a  song  to  Colonel  Dalzell,  was  killed; 
that  the  colonel  himself  was  dead;  that  his  half 
brother,  Stillwell,  who  had  held  it,  was  dead,  and 
that  the  girl  was  dead,  as  was  probably  the  China 
man  who  had  stolen  it  from  her.  Before  leaving 
Fort  Hancock,  Laurens  had  pushed  inquiries  for 
Fung  Wang,  but  could  learn  nothing  whatever,  and 
his  conclusion  was  that  of  those  who  had  handled 
the  ball  he  alone  was  alive. 

He  had  twice  been  to  New  York  on  his  errand 
of  discovering  the  Dalzell  heirs.  He  had  also  been 
to  the  War  Office  in  Washington,  but  all  he  could 
learn  was  that  Colonel  Dalzell  had  been  retired 
from  the  army  more  than  ten  years  before;  that 
he  had  been  a  widower,  that  he  had  one  child,  a 
daughter,  Josephine,  and  that  his  next  nearest  rela- 


110  THE  IVORY  BALL 

tive  was  a  half-brother,  James  Stillwell,  present  resi 
dence  unknown.  Further  efforts  to  discover  a  Dal- 
zell  heir  or  a  Stillwell  connection  ran  up  against  a 
blind  wall. 

Still,  he  did  not  entirely  abandon  the  search.  He 
placed  the  matter  of  tracing  the  family  into  the 
hands  of  a  reliable  lawyer  in  New  York  and  re 
turned  to  San  Francisco,  where  he  set  about  finding 
something  of  the  worth  of  the  ball  itself. 

The  leading  jewelry  house  of  that  city  employs 
a  well  known  expert  in  precious  stones  and  articles 
of  virtu,  and  to  him  Laurens  went.  He  showed  the 
ball  to  Mr.  Drouski  and  asked  him  his  opinion  of 
its  value.  The  expert  looked  astonished  as  he  saw 
the  thing,  but  in  a  short  time  it  became  apparent 
that  he  knew  little  more  of  it  than  did  Laurens.  He 
examined  it  carefully  under  a  glass. 

"We  haven't  the  slightest  notion  what  this  egg 
can  be,"  he  finally  said,  speaking  as  if  he  were  an 
editor.  "It  is  an  extraordinary  piece  of  work,  sir, 
but  we  cannot  even  say  to  what  epoch  it  belongs. 
That  it  is  ancient — very  ancient — we  believe;  the 
cut  of  the  stone  shows  us  that;  we  have  never  seen 
its  exact  like."  He  took  the  glass  from  his  eye. 
"Do  you  wish  to  sell?" 

"No,"  said  Laurens. 


IN  SAN  FRANCISCO  111 

"We  might  offer  a  thousand  .dellars  and  take  a 
chance,  sir." 

"I  do  not  care  to  sell.  I  am  here  for  your  opinion 
only." 

"Perhaps  we  might  offer  more  if  we  were  allowed 
to  remove  the  stone  and  weigh  it.  Will  you  re 
consider?" 

"No,"  returned  Laurens.  "The  ojimi  is  not  mine. 
Moreover,  I  doubt  if  the  diamond  could  be  removed 
without  injuring  the  tracery  around  it." 

"I  have  the  same  doubt  myself,"  returned  Mr. 
Drouski. 

Laurens'  efforts  ended  here,  for  the  time.  He 
had  a  new  box  made  for  the  ball,  placed  it  in  a  safe- 
deposit  vault,  and  thought  little  of  it  as  the  days, 
weeks  and  months  went  by. 

It  was  a  September  afternoon  when  the  tide  of 
his  aimless  existence  took  a  turn  he  was  far  from 
expecting.  He  was  walking  from  his  apartments 
toward  his  Club  when  a  passing  limousine  drew 
up  ahead  of  him,  and  a  small,  gloved  hand  shaken 
from  the  window  attracted  his  attention.  He 
looked  closely  and  recognized  the  lady  behind  it. 
She  was  the  young  wife  of  a  club  companion,  the 
man  with  whom  he  had  been  the  most  intimate,  if 
that  word  can  express  their  mutual  liking.  Laurens 


had  several  times  accepted  the  hospitality  of  his 
home,  and,  bachelor-like,  had  envied  him  in  his  hap 
piness.  A  dazzling  smile  welcomed  him  as,  with  hat 
in  hand,  he  went  to  the  side  of  the  limousine. 

"Mr.  Laurens,  it  is  an  age  since  you  called  on  us! 
And  you  are  just  the  man  I  wish  to  see!  Where 
have  you  been?" 

"Only  up  the  coast  for  a  few  days,"  he  answered. 
"What  is  it  that  I  can  do  for  Mrs.  Merrifield?" 

"Oh,  any  number  of  things!"  returned  the  viva 
cious  lady.  "But  chiefly — one.  Jack  has  gone  fish 
ing  and  won't  be  back  for  two  weeks,  and  I  want 
an  escort  Excepting  yourself  the  desirables  are  out 
of  town!" 

"Is  it  possible  that  the  queen  of  society  is  reduced 
to " 

"Nonsense!"  interrupted  the  lady.  "Be  serious. 
I  have  been  invited  to  a  reception  at  the  Somersets 
and  am  deserted  and  disconsolate.  You  know  the 
Somersets?" 

"Yes.  I  have  received  an  invitation,  but  had  not 
thought  of  accepting.  I  forget  the  date.  And  you 
wish  me  to  escort  you?  Beside  yourself,  what  will 
be  the  attraction?" 

"Probably  none  for  you,  you  iceberg!"  was  the 
return.  "But  I  wish  very  much  to  go.  It  is  the 


IN  SAN  FRANCISCO  113 

Somerset's  first  blaze  for  the  season,  and  I  believe 
there  are  several  buds  to  be  blown  into  blossoms  and 
laid  on  the  social  altar.  Will  you  sacrifice  yourself 
forme?" 

"You  call  it  a  sacrifice !  Nothing  can  give  me 
greater  pleasure.  And  when  does  this  felicity 
eventuate?" 

"To-morrow  night.  I  know  it  is  short  notice. 
Everyone  is  aware  that  Jack  is  away  and  they  know 
what  friends  we  are,  so  we  won't  be  scandalized. 
Don't  look  so  serious,  Mr.  Laurens !  I  know  how 
you  detest  society!  Are  you  afraid  of  meeting  your 
fate  at  the  Somersets?" 

Laurens  smiled.  "Fate  doesn't  usually  linger 
around  to  be  found,  does  it?  However,  I  will  meet 
it  bravely,  when  it  attacks  me." 

"I  don't  believe  you,  sir.  You  would  submit  as 
tamely  as  Jack  did.  But  I  thank  you  for  your  rescue. 
I  will  send  the  limousine  to-morrow  at  nine.  Won't 
you  ride?  No?  Well,  good-bye." 

Laurens  felt  himself  booked  for  an  evening  of  so 
cial  formality,  but  he  had  not  cared  to  refuse  doing  a 
favor  to  one  who  had  so  many  times  been  his  host 
ess.  As  he  walked  on  to  his  destination  it  was  with  t, 

* 

no  anticipation  of  pleasure  in  the  coming  function, 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

though  he  was  aware  that  the  Somersets  never  did 
anything  by  halves.  Few  beside  himself  would  have 
been  willing  to  miss  the  brilliant  entertainment  which 
made  no  appeal  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  RECEPTION 

THE  Somerset  mansion  on  Nob  Hill  was  a 
blaze  of  lights  when  Laurens,  with  the  radi 
ant  little  Mrs.  Merrifield  on  his  arm,  went 
up  its  broad  steps.    The  great  balloon-like  dome  of 
the  conservatory  attached  to  the  house  glowed  with 
the  irridescence  of  a  soap-bubble  and  strings  of  col 
ored  Chinese  lanterns  swayed  from  the  trees  on  the 
extensive  grounds.   It  was  a  gay  scene,  but  its  gaiety 
had  little  effect  on  the  man.     There  was  no  novelty 
about  it  to  him;  he  had  often  seen  its  like. 

He  went  through  the  proper  formalities  in  the 
proper  way.  He  met  the  people  he  knew  he  would 
meet.  He  danced  with  many  women  and  with  a 
grace  and  ease  which  few  possess,  and  worked  his 
way  through  the  brilliant  crush,  a  part  of  it,  but 
not  partaking  of  its  spirit;  he  would  have  infinitely 
preferred  a  pipe  and  a  good  book  in  his  own  rooms. 
The  hours  dragged  to  him.  The  music,  the  scent  of 
flowers,  the  humming  of  many  voices,  and  the  gay 

115 


116  THE  IVORY  BALL 

laughter,  never  for  a  moment  quickened  his  pulse. 
The  aimless  chatter  of  his  last  partner  had  bored 
him,  and  when  he  finally  disposed  of  her  to  a  callow 
youth  who  wished  her  for  a  fox-trot  he  stood  aside 
and  watched  Mrs.  Merrifield  as  she  floated  through 
the  dance  as  happy  as  a  young  girl.  Then  he  turned 
and  made  his  way  out  of  the  crowd  and  into  the 
large  conservatory,  thanking  fortune  that  the  even 
ing  was  almost  gone. 

The  place  was  deserted  so  far  as  he  could  see 
through  the  mass  of  palms  and  tropical  growths 
which  made  it  a  beautiful  jungle.  He  walked  down 
the  marble-floored  center  aisle,  past  a  fountain  over 
which  a  bronze  nymph  reigned,  and  at  the  end  of 
a  side  passage  came  to  a  glass  door  opening  into 
the  illuminated  grounds.  Close  by  was  a  cluster 
of  colored  electric  lights  cleverly  entwined  among 
the  boughs  of  a  blossoming  orange  tree. 

The  odor  of  the  flowers  was  oppressively  strong. 
Laurens  determined  to  go  outside  for  a  smoke  and 
a  breath  of  fresh  air.  He  took  out  a  cigar  and  as 
he  saw  the  lanterns  tossing  in  the  strong  night  wind, 
to  save  his  light  he  struck  his  match  and  held  it  to 
the  end  of  the  havana. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened  and  a  young 
lady  came  in  from  the  grounds.  She  was  alone  and 


THE  RECEPTION  117 

the  two  met  face  to  face.  But  this  was  no  casual 
meeting  in  which  there  was  a  bow,  a  smile,  and  a 
way  made  for  her  to  pass.  Instead,  the  girl  stopped 
short,  and  man  and  woman  stared  as  if  each  were 
seeing  a  ghost.  The  flame  of  the  match  had  eaten 
its  way  to  Laurens'  fingers  before  the  pain  of  the 
burn  brought  him  to  his  senses. 

"Almighty  God!"  he  exclaimed,  forgetting  the 
proprieties.  "Are  you  Josephine  Dalzell,  or — or 
her  spirit?" 

The  girl  stepped  away  as  if  she  were  frightened 
at  hearing  his  voice,  but  her  distended  eyes  did  not 
leave  his  as  with  one  hand  she  groped  for  the 
back  of  a  rustic  seat  by  the  door.  Her  face  was  as 
white  as  when  he  had  last  seen  it  as  dead  in  the 
desert,  and  her  large,  dark  eyes  had  the  same  stare. 

"John — John  Laurens!"  she  almost  whispered, 
and  sank  to  the  bench  in  time  to  save  herself  from 
falling  to  the  floor. 

Laurens  unsprung  himself  and  with  his  heart  rac 
ing  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant.  "It  is  you!  You 
have  come  back!  How  are  you  here?  What  is  the 
meaning  of  it?  I — I  thought  you  dead!"  He  was 
a  trifle  incoherent,  but  his  surprise  seemed  to  steady 
the  young  lady. 

"You !    I  thought  you I  saw  you  dead !"  she 


118  THE  IVORY  BALL 

returned,  with  a  look  of  incredulity  in  her  eyes  and 
a  slight  drawing  away  of  her  slender  figure  as  if 
she  were  still  doubtful  of  the  man  as  being  flesh 
and  blood.  He  noticed  the  shrinking  and  the  emo 
tion  betrayed  by  her  white  face.  He  laid  his  hand 
on  hers. 

"It  is  a  miracle!  God  works  in  a  mysterious 
way !"  he  said  softly.  "We  are  both  alive,  each  hav 
ing  thought  the  other  dead!  I  was  saved  by  the 
storm — and  rescued  by  a  squad  of  United  States 
cavalry.  And  you?" 

The  touch  of  his  hand  reassured  the  girl.  "Oh, 
the  wonder  of  it!  I  was  found — by  Fung  Wang." 

"Fung  Wang?" 

She  nodded,  then  as  her  nerves  gave  out  she  put 
her  hands  to  her  face  and  sobbed.  It  was  the  one 
thing  needed  to  restore  her  balance  and  Laurens 
allowed  her  to  cry  without  interruption.  His  own 
nerves  needed  steadying.  Presently  she  quieted.  "It 
is  like  waking  from  an  awful  dream!"  she  said. 

"Thank  God,  this  is  no  dream!"  returned  Lau 
rens.  "Can  you  tell  me  just  what  happened?" 

"I  am  not  likely  ever  to  forget  it,"  she  answered. 
"I  think  there  were  but  a  few  minutes  of  that  fear 
ful  time  in  which  I  was  thoroughly  unconscious.  I 
must  have  been  for  a  little  when  I  thought  you  were 


THE  RECEPTION  119 

going  crazy  and  I  gave  you  my  water-bottle.  There 
is  a  blank  there." 

"And  you  sacrificed  yourself?  You  would  not  de 
sert  me?" 

"Did  you  desert  me?" 

"But  I  am  a  man,  and " 

"And  I  am  a  woman,"  she  returned. 

"Go  on,  please." 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  as  she  continued: 
"I  came  to  myself  when  you  and  the  Mexican  ar 
rived,  but  I  was  too  far  gone  to  resist  him.  I  know 
you  drove  him  away;  I  knew  you  thought  I  was 
dying;  I  knew  you  spread  your  coat  over  me;  I 
heard  you  talking  to  me,  but  I  could  make  no  sign." 

"You  heard!"  Laurens  caught  his  breath  as  he 
remembered  what  he  had  said. 

"Yes.  Later  I  knew  you  were  walking  up  and 
down.  I  wondered  how  long  I  would  live.  I  won 
dered  what  you  would  do  when  I  died.  My  mind 
was  active  but  I  could  not  stir  a  finger.  Bye  and  bye 
I  became  conscious  that  something  was  galling  my 
side,  and  the  pain  grew  to  be  intolerable.  I  thought 
it  out  and  was  sure  it  was  caused  by  the  ivory  ball 
I  had  put  in  my  blouse  when  you  gave  it  to  me.  It 
had  worked  around  and  I  was  lying  on  it.  It  must 
have  been  the  pain  that  brought  back  the  last  of  my 


120  THE  IVORY  BALL 

force.  Suddenly  I  found  I  could  move.  I  sat  up, 
took  out  the  ball  and  pushed  it  into  the  pocket  of 
your  coat.  See  how  I  remember  details !" 

"Yes,"  said  Laurens.  "The  ball  was  found  in  the 
coat.  I  have  it." 

She  did  not  appear  to  hear  him.  "And  then 
comes  a  momentary  blank  again,"  she  went  on,  no^ 
with  a  far-away  look  in  her  eyes,  "but  that  soon 
passed.  I  knew  I  had  fallen,  but  from  that  moment 
until  Fung  Wang  found  and  revived  me  I  was  again 
utterly  powerless  to  speak  or  move — even  to  close 
my  eyes.  I  was  in  a  state  of  suspended  animation. 
Under  different  circumstances  I  would  have  been 
buried  alive.  I  knew  you  thought  me  dead.  I  re 
member  everything  you  did,  even  to  putting  my 
handkerchief  over  my  face.  I  wondered  where  you 
found  it.  I  heard  you  go  away.  I  heard  you  laugh. 
I  knew  your  brain  had  given  out.  Oh,  it  was  hor 
rible — horrible!" 

She  broke  down  and  sobbed  again.  Laurens  did 
not  stop  her  though  he  would  have  comforted  her 
after  the  manner  of  a  man  with  a  maid.  "I  believe 
I  can  guess  the  rest,"  he  said,  reassuringly.  "Fung 
Wang  had  followed  us.  He  knew  when  to  appear. 
I  have  a  recollection  of  seeing  him,  as  in  an  awful 
nightmare.  He  probably  revived  you  with  the  very 


THE  RECEPTION  121 

water  he  stole  from  us."  In  a  few  words  Laurens 
explained. 

"And  you  kepr  that  knowledge  from  me?" 

"The  situation  was  too  tragic  to  worry  you  while 
in  your  state." 

"Well,  you  were  right — he  did  revive  me,  and  I 
came  back  to  life  with  more  strength  than  I  had 
when  I  fell.  You  lay  on  the  sand.  I  thought  you 
dead,  and  so  did  Fung  Wang.  He  cursed  you  in 
English.  Then  the  storm  broke  suddenly — fiercely. 
Wang  forced  me  away,  but  I  did  not  leave  with 
out  covering  your  face  as  you  had  mine.  Oh,  you 
looked  terrible!" 

She  paused,  with  something  like  a  shudder  at  the 
memory.  Laurens  had  watched  her  as  a  man. 
watches  the  play  of  emotion  on  the  face  he  loves., 
She  had  changed,  and  yet  she  was  the  same,  though 
it  was  hard  to  reconcile  this  superb  creature  with  his 
recollection  of  the  figure  in  male  clothing.  Her  face 
was  both  more  mature  and  more  beautiful.  The 
year  had  rounded  her  delicately,  and  the  line  of  chin 
and  throat  fell  into  the  curve  of  her  bosom  wittt 
bewitching  grace.  Since  the  shock  of  their  meeting 
a  faint  glow  had  tinted  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  were 
like  stars.  The  ball-dress  she  wore  gave  her  the 
finishing  touch.  To  Laurens  she  was  a  picture. 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

"And  then?"  he  said.  "I  would  like  to  know 
it  all." 

"There  is  but  little  more,"  she  returned,  "and 
that  is  not  tragic,  in  comparison.  Fung  Wang  made 
me  mount  your  mule,  and  I  remember  that  he  took 
the  box  from  the  saddle  of  my  dead  horse.  He 
thought  the  ball  was  in  it,  and  when  later  he  dis 
covered  it  was  empty  I  never  witnessed  such  an 
agony  of  rage  and  disappointment.  He  cursed  me 
like  the  beast  he  is — or  was,  but  it  was  then  too 
late  to  go  back.  Finally  we  reached  a  little  settle 
ment  on  the  Rio  Grande  and  while  there  Fung  Wang 
disappeared  and  I  have  never  heard  of  him  since. 
I  was  nursed  by  a  Mexican  woman  for  a  few  days, 
and  finally  crossed  the  river.  I  had  money  enough 
to  get  to  San  Francisco,  and  went  to  a  friend.  I 
am  still  with  her.  That  is  all  my  story." 

She  stopped.  From  the  ball-room  came  the  sub 
dued  sound  of  music,  and  the  air  was  heavy  with 
the  scent  of  the  orange  blossoms,  but  the  two  were 
dead  to  outside  influences.  Laurens'  impulse  was  to 
clasp  the  girl  in  his  arms  and  tell  her  again  what 
she  had  once  heard  when  she  lay  on  the  sand  and 
he  thought  her  dying,  but  he  could  take  no  unfair 
advantage  of  the  unusual  situation.  "My  story  is 


THE  RECEPTION  123 

much  more  prosaic,"  he  said.  "May  I  ask  where 
your  friend's  house  is?" 

"Why,  only  across  these  grounds!  I  had  been 
to  the  reception  here;  I  ran  back  to  the  house  for 
a  moment,  and  returned  through  the  park  when — 
when " 

"When  we  met.    It  has  been  providential!" 

"It  has  been  more  than  wonderful!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "You  will  come  and  see  me  and " 

She  had  no  time  to  finish  the  sentence,  nor  he  to 
answer,  for  they  were  interrupted  by  footsteps  on 
the  pavement,  and  the  cry:  "Oh,  there  he  is!"  and 
Mrs.  Merrifield  appeared  with  an  escort.  She 
laughed  as  she  came  up.  "I  am  dreadfully  sorry 
to  end  your  tete-a-tete,  Mr.  Laurens,"  she  said  gaily, 
"but  do  you  know  the  time?  People  are  going  and 
I  am  tired  to  death.  I  have  been  looking  for  you 
for  half  an  hour.  Pardon  me;  this  is  Miss  Dalzell, 
I  believe !  I  met  you  some  months  ago,  my  dear." 

When  Laurens  was  about  leaving  Mrs.  Merrifield 
at  the  door  of  her  home  she  held  out  her  hand  and 
looked  roguishly  at  him.  "I  never  saw  two  people 
so  engrossed  in  one  another  as  were  you  and  Miss 
Dalzell.  Had  you  ever  met  her  before?" 

"Yes;  something  over  a  year  ago,"  was  the  care 
less  return. 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

"Then  I  was  wrong  when  I  said  you  might  meet 
your  fate  to-night — meaning,  of  course,  the  first 
time.  You  did  not  act  like  an  iceberg  toward  that 
young  lady.  Or,  at  least,  the  iceberg  was  rapidly 
melting." 

"I  never  was  an  iceberg,  Mrs.  Merrifield,"  he  re 
plied  seriously. 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS 

WHEN  Laurens  awoke  the  following  morning 
he  came  to  himself  in  his  old  world,  to 
all  appearances;  but  as  his  brain  cleared 
he  suddenly  became  aware  that  he  had  emerged  into 
a  new  one.    He  dressed  himself  with  a  spirit  he  had 
not  known   for  months,   and  even  caught  himself 
whistling. 

As  he  sat  at  breakfast  he  picked  up  his  newspaper 
and  while  glancing  at  the  headings  his  eye  caught 
sight  of  a  small  paragraph  which  commanded  his 
immediate  attention: 

Professor  Paul  Woodstock,  curator  of  New  York's 
largest  museum,  who  has  been  traveling  in  the  Orient 
for  the  past  sixteen  months,  arrived  yesterday  from 
China  and  will  stay  at  the  Palace  Hotel  for  a  time 
before  going  east.  The  scientist  had  trouble  regarding 
'the  landing  of  his  Chinese  servant,  but  the  difficulty  has 
been  arranged  by  the  immigration  authorities." 

Laurens  at  once  become  alert.     Paul  Woodstock 


126  THE  IVORY  BALL 

was  one  of  the  few  men  with  whom  he  was  really 
intimate.  He  had  known  him  well  in  New  York  and 
had  last  seen  him  when  the  two  met  in  China  just 
as  Woodstock  arrived  and  Laurens  was  about  leav 
ing.  There  was  no  man  in  the  world  Laurens  would 
have  preferred  to  see.  The  two  had  been  veritable 
cronies  in  the  old  days,  and  the  young  man's  regard 
for  his  friend  was  like  that  of  a  brother;  he  would 
have  trusted  Woodstock  with  his  life.  He  deter 
mined  to  go  to  him  at  once,  and  with  the  determi 
nation  it  came  to  him  that  the  curator,  antiquarian 
and  scientist,  would  be  the  very  one  to  enlighten  him 
regarding  the  character  and  value  of  the  mysterious 
ivory  ojimi.  It  would  be  fitting  to  be  able  to  give 
Miss  Dalzell  a  definite  knowledge  concerning  the 
ball  when  he  returned  it.  And  he  would  return  it 
that  night;  in  the  circumstances  there  was  no  neces 
sity  of  waiting,  and  he  looked  forward  to  seeing  her 
much  as  an  accepted  lover  might  have  done,  though 
the  word  "love"  did  not  cross  his  mind,  nor  did  he 
attempt  to  analyze  his  present  feeling  toward  the 
girl  who  had  come  back  from  the  dead. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  he  went  to  the  safe- 
deposit  vault  and  took  out  the  box  containing  the 
ball;  half  an  hour  later  he  was  at  the  Palace  Hotel 
where  he  sent  up  his  card  to  Professor  Woodstock. 


THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS  127 

That  gentleman  was  in  and  welcomed  him  with 
an  effusiveness  which  spoke  of  their  intimacy.  While 
the  two  sat  together  Laurens  told  Woodstock  his 
story,  and  told  it  fully  for  the  first  time  since  his 
rescue,  only  omitting  more  than  a  casual  reference 
to  the  young  lady  as  a  prominent  actor  in  the  drama. 
Regarding  her  he  held  back  all  enthusiasm,  knowing 
that  his  practical  bachelor  friend  would  have 
laughed  at  any  sentimental  attitude  toward  a  girl 
he  had  known  for  scarcely  a  week  and  of  whose 
real  history  he  knew  next  to  nothing.  The  curator 
listened  to  the  tale  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  boy, 
and  there  was  much  of  the  boy  in  Woodstock. 

"A  devil  of  a  close  squeak  for  you  and  Miss  Dal- 
zell!"  he  exclaimed,  when  the  account  was  finished. 
"And  you  say  she  is  in  town?"  • 

"We  met  last  night  by  accident,  for  the  first  time 
since  the  experience  in  the  desert." 

"And  what  became  the  beast  of  a  chink?" 

"She  has  no  idea,  nor  have  I.  Fie  disappeared. 
As  for  Callahan  and  his  men,  I  fancy  they  are  all 
dead." 

"Aye,  it's  more  than  likely!  Now  let  me  see  the 
ball." 

Laurens  opened  the  package  and  produced  the 
semi-sphere  about  which  had  gathered  so  much 


128  THE  IVORY  BALL 

trouble.  Like  all  who  had  seen  it  Woodstock  was 
warm  in  his  admiration,  but,  as  with  the  rest,  it  was 
beyond  his  knowledge  though  he  frankly  posed  as 
an  expert  on  curios.  "A  marvelous  thing!"  he  ex 
claimed,  after  a  close  examination.  "I  should  not 
care  to  say  how  old  this  is,  but  it  would  not  surprise 
me  if  it  dated  back  to  before  the  Manchu  dynasty. 
Certainly,  nothing  equaling  it  has  been  turned  out 
in  China  in  two  hundred  years !  I  know  something 
of  modern  Chinese  characters,  but  those  on  the 
scroll  are  beyond  me!  However,  I  know  one  man 
who  can  tell  us  about  it." 

"Who?" 

"Count  Lito-See,  a  Japanese  Orientalist.  We 
came  over  in  the  same  steamer  and  I  suppose  I  got 
as  close  to  him  as  a  Jap  ever  allows  an  Occidental 
to  get.  He  can  translate  anything  ever  written  in 
Chinese,  Korean,  or  any  Eastern  dialect.  He  is  a 
profound  scholar  and  delicate  in  health,  like  most. 
He  can  tell  you  just  when  this  was  carved,  and  prob 
ably,  who  carved  it.  He  was  of  the  greatest  help  to 
me  when  I  was  troubled  about  the  landing  of  my 
servant,  Mow-Sing.  By  the  way,  you  must  remem 
ber  Mow-Sing !  He  applied  to  me  the  very  day  you 
left  China,  and  told  me  he  had  been  your  boy." 

Laurens    recollected.      "Yes,    I    remember    him 


THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS  129 

well,"  he  returned.  "A  faithful  chap!  I  did  him 
the  questionable  service  of  pulling  him  out  of  the 
Pei-Ho  when  he  was  about  to  commit  suicide  on 
account  of  his  poverty,  or  his  having  lost  caste,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  I  think  I  gave  him  a  new 
idea  of  life;  anyhow,  he  appeared  thankful  when  I 
took  him  on.  He  was  superior  to  any  coolie  I  met. 
I  would  like  to  see  him  again." 

"He  will  be  in  presently,"  said  Woodstock. 
"Now  as  to  the  count.  We  three  will  have  a  little 
dinner  together  and  go  over  this  ball.  To-day  is 
Wednesday.  Suppose  you  meet  us  at  Callamere's; 
we  can  have  absolute  privacy  there.  Say  six-thirty 
to-morrow  night.  I  will  see  the  Count  and  make 
all  arrangements." 

"Where  is  Callamere's?"  asked  Laurens.  "I 
have  never  heard  of  the  place." 

Woodstock's  blue  eyes  widened.  "A  resident  of 
San  Francisco,  and  never  heard  of  Callamere! 
Well,  perhaps  it  isn't  strange!  He  doesn't  blow  a 
trumpet.  But,  my  dear  boy,  if  you  have  never  ex 
perienced  Callamere  you  have  never  dined!  He  is 
several  pegs  above  the  ordinary  table  d'hote  pro 
prietors.  Pegs!  Miles!  He's  unique,  is  Calla 
mere!  He  won't  serve  more  than  six  to  a  party, 
nor  less  than  three,  and  demands  full  dress.  But 


ISO  THE  IVORY  BALL 

his  dinners!  Ye  gods  of  Olympus!  You  will  find 
an  exact  mingling  of  comestibles  and  the  different 
jig-waters  which  will  produce  the  supreme  effect 
without  reaction,  and  Callamere  would  be  highly 
insulted  if  you  disturbed  the  gastronomic  balance  by 
eating  or  drinking  less  than  he  puts  before  you.  You 
can't  even  smoke  your  own  cigars.  The  Frenchman 
has  reached  the  acme  of  evolution  in  gustatory 
progress  and  has  struck  nature's  secret  of  both 
quality  and  quantity,  the  result  being  a  feast  which 
expands  the  soul  and  does  not  clog  the  brain." 
Woodstock  threw  his  arm  affectionately  across  his 
friend's  shoulder.  Laurens  laughed.  "Callamere's, 
by  all  means!  Where  is  it?" 

"On  one  of  the  most  exclusive  residence  streets  in 
San  Francisco;  and  you  could  no  more  get  in  with 
out  a  proper  introduction  than  you  could  have  an 
off-hand  interview  with  the  Dowager-Empress  of 
China.  Here !  I'll  give  you  my  card.  I  know  him 
personally.  And  bring  a  lens  with  you,  and — Hello  ! 
Come  in  here,  Mow-Sing.  A  gentleman  wishes  to 
see  you." 

Laurens  turned  around.  In  the  curtained  door 
way  to  an  adjoining  chamber  stood  his  former  ser 
vant  and  as  their  eyes  met  the  yellow  face  of  the 
young  Chinaman  broke  into  a  broad  smile.  He 


THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS  131 

greeted  his  old  employer  with  a  demonstration 
rarely  seen  in  one  of  his  race.  After  a  few  minutes 
Woodstock  reached  for  the  box  containing  the  ball. 
"Mow,"  he  said,  "you  sabe  old  Chinese  writing,  If 
see?" 

The  boy  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Perhaps 
can  do." 

"Then  look  at  this." 

The  professor  snapped  open  the  cover.  The  young 
Chinaman  stepped  toward  the  table  and  bent  over 
the  box,  then  he  suddenly  drew  back  as  if  it  con 
tained  a  live  snake.  Absolute  consternation  was  ex 
pressed  on  his  face  as  he  stared  at  the  ball  in  its 
crimson  bed,  the  diamond  sparkling  in  the  light,  and 
the  next  instant  he  went  to  his  knees  as  Fung  Wang 
had  done  at  sight  of  it,  bowing  his  head  until  it 
touched  the  Wilton  carpet. 

Both  Laurens  and  Woodstock  were  astonished, 
and  the  latter  looked  his  amazement  as  he  jumped 
to  his  feet.  "What  in  the  devil  do  you  mean  by 
such  pagan  actions !"  he  exclaimed.  "Get  up."  The 
boy  obeyed. 

"You  know  that  ball?"  demanded  his  master. 

"Me  sabe — me  sabe!  Where  you  get?"  replied 
Mow-Sing,  and  Laurens  noticed  he  was  trembling 
violently. 


132  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"It  belongs  to  Mr.  Laurens,  and  it  came  from 
your  country.  What  is  it?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Tell  me  at  once."  The  professor's  hitherto  mild 
eyes  were  showing  irritation.  The  boy  raised  his 
bent  head  and  looked  at  him.  "Perhaps  allee  same 
you  killee  Mow-Sing,  you  no  makee  speak.  Me  go." 
And  without  waiting  for  permission  the  boy  backed 
into  the  next  room,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  box  until 
the  curtains  fell  over  him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  asked  Woodstock, 
his  face  red  with  anger. 

"About  as  much  as  I  make  of  the  rest  of  the  coil," 
answered  Laurens.  "It  begins  to  look  as  if  every 
Chinaman  knows  the  ball  and  is  afraid  of  it!  It  is 
strange  that  you  or  I  never  heard  of  it  while  we  were 
in  China!" 

"It  may  be  a  talisman  of  one  of  the  Six  Com 
panies,"  said  Woodstock,  "but  that  doesn't  excuse 
Mow-Sing.  I  don't  like  his  attitude ;  just  a  sight  of 
the  thing  made  him  forget  his  duty  and  respect.  The 
ball  surely  has  a  history,  and  it  may  get  you  into 
trouble." 

"It  certainly  exerts  a  peculiar  influence  on  the 
Oriental  mind,"  returned  Laurens,  rising  to  go.  "I 
only  wish  I  could  tell  what  the  ojimi  really  is." 


THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS  133 

"You'll  know  to-morrow  night,"  replied  Wood 
stock,  and  then  added:  "Why  not  include  the  young 
lady  in  our  party?  As  the  owner  of  the  ball  she 
should  be  with  us.  Give  her  the  invitation.  I  would 
be  delighted  to  meet  her." 

"And  she  would  probably  be  equally  delighted  to 
go,"  said  Laurens.  "I  will  see  her  to-night.  If 
you  don't  hear  from  me  in  the  morning  you  may 
consider  the  invitation  accepted." 

"Good!  Remember,  six-thirty,  sharp!  Mow- 
Sing!" 

At  his  call  the  boy  instantly  appeared. 

"Show  Mr.  Laurens  to  the  door. 

The  order  was  obeyed.  Through  the  length  of 
the  apartment  the  young  Chinaman  walked  back 
ward,  bowing  at  every  step,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  box 
in  Laurens'  hand.  At  the  hall  door  he  made  a  pro 
found  obeisance.  It  was  unusual — exaggerated. 

Laurens  called  on  Miss  Dalzell  that  night  but  was 
far  from  having  the  quiet  talk  he  had  anticipated; 
instead,  he  found  himself  something  of  a  lion  in  the 
elegant  house,  the  wealthy  maiden  lady  who  had 
taken  Josephine  in  charge  being  so  curious  to  hear 
of  his  adventures  that  she  was  blind  to  his  desire. 
He  told  of  his  interview  with  Woodstock  and  openly 
gave  the  young  lady  the  invitation  for  the  following 


134  THE  IVORY  BALL 

evening,  an  invitation  quickly  accepted,  and  when  it 
grew  late  he  left. 

Between  his  desire  to  meet  the  Count,  to  learn  the 
secret  of  the  carving  and  to  be  with  Josephine  for 
a  few  hours,  together  with  his  curiosity  regarding 
the  unique  restaurateur,  Callamere,  Laurens  passed 
the  following  day  with  the  novel  feeling  of  pleasur 
able  anticipation.  He  was  not  ennuied,  as  was  usual, 
and  that  day  of  easy  existence  stood  out  strongly  in 
his  memory.  He  looked  for  plenty  of  diversion  for 
that  evening,  and  it  was  a  welcome  change. 

At  five  o'clock  he  was  dressed;  at  half-past  five  he 
was  at  Miss  Dalzell's  house  and  at  quarter  past  six, 
with  the  girl,  a  radiant  beauty  in  his  eyes,  he  was  at 
Callamere's. 

There  was  nothing  to  suggest  a  public  house  in 
the  fine  building  before  which  his  limousine  halted. 
At  the  door  Laurens  gave  V/oodstock's  card  to  the 
liveried  flunky,  and  the  two  were  ushered  into  a  salon 
where  several  people  in  full  evening  dress  were  gath 
ered.  A  few  minutes  later  Monsieur  Callamere 
came  into  the  room,  looking  more  like  an  European 
diplomat  than  a  restaurateur,  his  white  hair  and 
mustache  giving  him  a  distinguished  appearance. 
From  him  it  was  learned  that  Woodstock  and  his 
friend  had  not  yet  arrived  and  that  every  prepara- 


THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS  135 

tion  had  been  made  for  a  dinner  for  four.  The 
professor's  tardiness  did  not  surprise  Laurens  as  he 
was  notoriously  careless  as  to  time. 

But  at  six-thirty  he  had  not  come,  and  though  Lau 
rens  began  to  get  a  bit  nervous,  Miss  Josephine 
showed  no  impatience;  she  talked  to  Laurens,  and 
even  struck  a  few  chords  on  the  magnificent  grand 
piano  in  a  manner  which  showed  she  was  familiar 
with  the  instrument.  Then  they  wandered  around 
the  splendid  room  looking  at  the  paintings  on  the 
walls.  They  were  admiring  a  genuine  Corot  on  an 
easel  when  the  flunky  who  had  admitted  them  ap 
proached  with  a  note  in  his  hand.  "M'sieu  Lau 
rens?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"For  you,  m'sieu.    The  man,  he  is  waiting." 

Laurens  turned  and  saw  a  Japanese,  a  high  silk 
hat  in  his  hand,  standing  between  the  hall  portieres. 
Instinctively  he  knew  the  note  had  come  from  Wood 
stock.  He  excused  himself,  opened  it  and  read: 

My  dear  Laurens: 

The  Count  is  too  indisposed  to  go  out  to-night  and 
suggests  that  we  forego  Callamere  and  that  you  and 
Miss  Dalzell  join  us  at  his  temporary  home,  the 
Villa  Sarto.  You  will  enjoy  him,  and  the  propri 
eties  will  not  be  outraged  as  the  Countess,  a 
modern  lady,  will  be  of  the  party.  With  this  he  sends 
his  secretary  and  a  limousine.  He  is  very  anxious  to 


136  THE  IVORY  BALL 

see  the  ball.     Pardon  the  tardiness  of  this  and  come 
at  once. 

WOODSTOCK,  per  K." 

That  the  note  was  not  in  Woodstock's  writing 
was  explained  by  the  "per  K"  after  his  name,  and 
Laurens  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  work  of  the 
Count's  secretary  from  the  dictation  of  the  professor. 
He  was  disappointed  at  missing  Callamere's  dinner, 
but  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  neither  Miss  Dal- 
zell  or  himself  thought  of  questioning  the  sudden 
change  of  programme. 

As  they  moved  toward  the  door  the  waiting  Jap 
advanced  with  a  low  bow,  and  never  was  politeness 
more  graceful  or  more  nearly  perfect  than  that  dis 
played  by  Mr.  Kimeo.  It  takes  a  well-bred  Oriental 
to  make  the  conventional  manners  of  Occidental  so 
ciety  appear  crude  in  contrast  with  his  own.  The 
secretary's  English  was  as  correct  as  that  of  a  pro 
fessed  grammarian. 

Would  the  honorable  lieutenant  and  the  beautiful 
lady  he  was  escorting  condescend  to  enter  the  poor 
vehicle  sent  for  them,  and  make  glad  the  heart  of 
the  Count,  who  was  all  impatience  to  meet  them? 
And  the  profound  and  honorable  professor  was 
waiting. 

The  Honorable  lieutenant  and  Miss  Dalzell  ex- 


In  less  than  three  minutes  Laurens  was  in  a  state  of 
profound  bliss 


THE  TURN  OF  EVENTS  137 

pressed  the  desire  to  gratify  the  Count,  and  there 
was  much  bowing,  and  much  subserviency  in  getting 
the  lady  into  her  wraps  and  Laurens  into  his  light 
overcoat,  after  which  they  entered  the  waiting  limou 
sine,  the  chauffeur  sitting  at  the  wheel  like  a  block 
of  wood. 

They  moved  off,  Mr.  Kimeo  chatting  constantly 
and  displaying  the  soul  of  polite  affability.  Pres 
ently  he  produced  a  gold  cigarette  case.  Would  the 
lady  indulge?  It  was  not  uncommon  in  his  country, 
and  the  limousine's  windows  were  all  open;  more 
over,  there  was  nothing  like  the  flavor  of  his  own 
tobacco  to  be  found  in  America. 

Miss  Dalzell  gracefully  refused  but  insisted  that 
the  gentlemen  should  smoke.  Laurens  accepted  one 
of  the  tiny  cigarettes,  the  secretary  placed  another 
between  his  smiling  lips  and  the  two  lighted  up. 

In  less  than  three  minutes  Laurens  was  in  a  state 
of  profound  bliss;  the  swaying  of  the  limousine  was 
like  the  rhythmic  swing  of  a  hammock,  and  the  pur 
ring  of  the  fast-moving  machine  turned  to  gentle 
music.  Through  the  window  he  saw  the  avenues  glide 
by  like  a  beautiful  panorama;  every  color  became 
intensified  and  glorious,  and  commonplace  objects 
took  on  a  new  and  entrancing  aspect.  He  became 
dimly  conscious  that  the  ride  was  longer  than  he 


138  THE  IVORY  BALL 

had  anticipated,  but  he  did  not  care;  why  should  he? 
By  his  side  sat  his  lovely  companion,  the  warmth  of 
whose  body  was  like  a  caress,  while  opposite,  for 
ever  talking  like  a  poet,  was  the  most  polite  and 
fascinating  fellow  he  had  ever  met.  Laurens  was  in 
a  state  of  profound  mental  peace — a  peace  such  as 
he  had  never  known.  He  drifted  into  an  exquisitely 
langorous  state,  and  finally  a  golden  veil  seemed  to 
fall  over  and  envelop  his  brain,  blotting  out  every 
sensation. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  AWAKENING 

WHEN  John  Laurens  opened  his  eyes  to  prac 
tical  facts  he  discovered  that  he  was  no 
longer  in  a  limousine  but  was  lying  on  a 
carved  bed  covered  with  silk  and  canopied  with  the 
same  material.  He  sat  up  and  looked  around  in 
amazement.  The  room  he  was  in  was  large  and 
lavishly  furnished,  in  Chinese  style  for  the  most 
part,  but  he  noticed  a  grand  piano,  a  magnificent 
book-case,  *  carved  buffet  and  a  few  American  chairs 
in  rich  upholstering;  the  rest,  from  the  thick  rugs 
on  the  polished  floor  to  the  great  bronze  lamp,  which 
was  lighted  and  hung  from  the  high  ceiling,  were 
all  of  the  Orient.  Several  pieces  of  heavy  bric-a- 
brac  were  set  around  the  room,  and  a  wonderful  in 
laid  censer  breathed  out  a  delicately  scented  vapor 
which  lay  in  a  strata  on  the  stagnant  air.  In  the 
exact  center  of  the  apartment  was  a  large  carved 

130 


140  THE  IVORY  BALL 

table  of  polished  teakwood,  and  directly  above  it  a 
long  skylight,  its  several  sections  closed. 

Laurens  noted  these  things  slowly  and  with  be-" 
wildered  senses,  then  he  became  alive  to  the  fact 
that  he  was  clothed  in  a  voluminous  silken  robe, 
while  on  his  feet  were  felt-soled  sandals  decorated 
with  colored  stones  matching  the  gorgeousness  of 
his  gown. 

Though  mentally  at  sea  he  v:as  not  worried.  He 
knew  by  the  unnatural  taste  in  his  mouth  that  he 
had  been  under  the  influence  of  some  drug,  and  as 
his  mind  cleared  so  did  his  recollection  and  he  was 
aware  that  he  had  been  the  victim  of  a  doped  cigar 
ette.  It  did  not  even  remotely  occur  to  him  to  won 
der  why  Mr.  Kimeo  had  given  him  a  drugged 
smoke.  It  was  so  undoubtedly  a  mistake  of  some 
kind.  The  cigarettes  must  somehow  have  been  acci 
dentally  placed  in  the  secretary's  case.  It  was  not 
unusual  for  Orientals  to  have  such  things  in  their 
possession.  Doped  cigarettes  sometimes  came  in 
handy.  But  there  could  not  possibly  have  been  any 
intention  of  giving  him,  John  Laurens,  one  of  them. 
He  wondered  what  kind  of  a  head  Mr.  Kimeo  had 
to  keep  his  wits.  On  himself  the  effect  had  been 
tremendous,  and  he  figured  that  on  his  arrival  at 
the  villa  where  the  Count  was  staying  he  was  in 


THE  AWAKENING  141 

such  a  helpless  condition  that  he  had  been  put  to 
bed  to  sleep  off  the  effects  of  the  drug.  It  had  been 
done  with  Oriental  thoroughness  and  hospitality. 
Doubtless  Woodstock  would  soon  appear.  He 
hoped  his  friend  had  properly  apologized  for  such  a 
display  of  unseasoned  weakness.  And  what  had 
Miss  Dalzell  thought  of  such  an  exhibition? 

Beyond  the  staleness  of  his  mouth  he  felt  per 
fectly  well.  He  got  to  his  feet  and  shuffled  around 
the  sumptuous  apartment,  then  made  a  discovery 
that  startled  him:  His  own  evening  dress  and  under 
clothing  had  been  removed  and  with  them  had  gone 
the  lacquered  box  containing  the  ivory  ball,  and  at 
the  same  time  he  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  it 
was  morning  instead  of  evening;  that  the  light  was 
growing  stronger.  Was  it  possible  that  the  night 
had  passed?  He  must  let  it  be  known  that  he  was 
awake  at  last.  And  what  had  become  of  Miss  Dal 
zell?  What  an  opinion  she  must  have  of  him! 

He  soon  discovered  a  heavy  double  door  behind 
the  tapestry-draped  walls,  but  they  were  locked  and 
he  searched  the  apartment  for  some  other  means  of 
egress,  only  to  learn  that  there  was  not  even  a  win 
dow  behind  the  hangings  and  that,  save  for  the  sky 
light  high  above,  no  means  of  ventilation.  It  was 
little  wonder  that  the  air  was  heavy. 


142  THE  IVORY  BALL 

He  had  hardly  completed  his  leisurely  examina 
tion  when  he  heard  the  click  of  a  lock  and  saw  the 
drapery  swing  over  the  folding  doors;  the  next 
instant  a  Chinaman  appeared  from  behind  them. 

"Where  am  I?"  he  asked;  but  instead  of  answer 
ing  the  man  glided  noiselessly  around  the  room, 
covered  the  exhaling  censer,  extinguished  the  light 
in  the  bronze  lantern,  which  showed  only  a  gleam 
of  rainbow  colors,  and  opened  a  section  of  the  sky 
light  by  means  of  a  rod  behind  the  draperies.  Lau- 
rens  followed  him  with  his  eyes.  "You  speak 
English?"  he  finally  questioned,  surprised  at  the 
manner  in  which  he  was  ignored. 

If  the  man  heard  him  he  did  not  heed  him,  for 
instead  of  answering  he  bowed  low  and  glided 
behind  the  hangings;  a  second  later  Laurens  heard 
the  door  open  and,  not  to  be  played  with  any  longer, 
he  jumped  for  the  entrance.  But  he  was  too  late; 
the  heavy  mahogany  was  closed  and  fastened;  it 
would  not  even  rattle  when  he  grasped  the  silver 
knobs  and  shook  them. 

And  then  his  growing  suspicion  that  there  was 
something  radically  wrong  in  the  conditions  crystal 
lized  into  absolute  certainty.  By  what  right  had  any 
one  to  lock  him  up  in  this  luxurious  apartment? 
Why  had  he  been  insulted  by  the  continued  silence 


THE  AWAKENING  143 

of  a  servant?  He  hammered  on  the  door  with  his 
bare  fists,  but  no  notice  was  taken  from  the  outside. 
With  an  outspoken  oath  he  turned  from  the  door 
and  as  he  did  so  he  heard  a  faint  click  and  the  yet 
gloomy  room  was  suddenly  swimming  in  the  soft 
light  of  indirect  electrical  illumination.  Then  Lau- 
rens  saw  that  he  was  not  alone.  A  man — a  China 
man — was  standing  by  the  table  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  quietly  regarding  him. 

The  man  was  dressed  in  a  flowery  robe  of  em 
broidered  silk  and  on  his  head  was  a  silk  skull-cap 
with  the  coral  button  of  a  mandarin  on  its  top.  As 
he  stood  there  motionless,  his  arms  folded  in  his 
flowing  sleeves,  he  made  an  impressive  figure. 

Laurens  was  relieved.  He  was  sure  that  here  was 
his  unknown  host,  Count  Lito-See,  overlooking  the 
incongruity  of  the  fact  that  there  was  a  Chinese 
mandarin's  costume  on  the  back  of  a  Japanese  aris 
tocrat.  He  thought  only  of  having  a  satisfactory 
explanation  of  the  situation,  at  the  same  time  won 
dering  why  the  Count  should  have  come  at  that  early 
hour  and  alone. 

It  was  the  Chinaman  who  spoke  first.  "Well, 
sir,"  he  began  quietly,  "it  appears  that  my  honored 
guest  is  greatly  excited  over  something!"  His  Eng 
lish  was  perfect. 


144.  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Laurens  bowed  politely  and  stepped  toward  him, 
but  as  he  came  within  two  paces  he  staggered  back. 
"You!  You!"  he  exclaimed. 

"So  the  honorable  Laurens  remembers  me?" 

"Remember  you !    Fung  Wang !" 

The  Chinaman  smiled.  "It  was  a  name  I  chose 
to  go  under  for  a  time — and  for  a  purpose,  sir." 

"Good  God!     I  thought  you  dead  until " 

"And  doubtless  wished  I  was,"  came  the  interrup 
tion.  "Sit  down,  my  honorable  friend.  You  will 
find  that  chair  easier  than  the  sand.  You  have  much 
to  ask,  perhaps,  and  I  have  something  to  explain." 
He  spoke  in  a  smooth  voice  and  there  was  nothing 
to  resent  in  either  tone  or  words. 

"But  I  have  much  to  demand,"  returned  Laurens. 
"Where  am  I?  And  how  came  I  here  with  you?" 

"It  is  a  natural  curiosity  couched  in  your  old  com 
manding  manner,"  was  the  light  rejoinder.  "As  for 
the  first;  you  are  my  honored  guest  in  my  house; 
for  the  second,  well,  you  will  soon  surmise." 

"In  your  house!  I  am  decidedly  bewildered!  I 
never  dreamed — I  knew  I  had  been  drugged, 
and " 

"At  my  orders,"  was  the  quiet  interruption; 
"therefore  you  already  know  the  how  of  your  being 
here.  You  undoubtedly  wish  to  know  the  why  of  it." 


"Kidnaped !  and  by  your  orders !" 


THE  AWAKENING  145 

Laurens  stiffened.  "Kidnaped!  And  by  your 
orders!" 

The  Chinaman  bowed,  "My  tactics  were  not 
yours  at  the  time  of  our  last  encounter — but  they 
were  as  successful." 

"And  your  motive  is  plain  enough  now,  sir!  You 
did  this  for  the  purpose  of  stealing  the  ojimi  I  took 
from  you — stealing  it  again." 

For  an  answer  the  man  drew  a  hand  from  his 
voluminous  sleeve  and  opening  it  showed  the  ivory 
ball.  "Sir,"  he  said,  "this  is  not  yours,  nor  did  it 
belong  to  Miss  Dalzell,  nor  to  the  consumptive  fool 
who  stole  it  from  her,  nor  to  the  fool's  half-brother, 
nor  to  the  German  who  looted  it  from  the  temple 
of  the  Eye  of  God.  Sit  down,  sir,  and  become  less 
excited;  you  will  better  appreciate  what  I  am  about 
to  tell  you." 

There  was  something  both  persuasive  and  au 
thoritative  in  the  voice,  and  Laurens  dropped  into  a 
tufted  chair  by  the  table  and  stared  at  the  Chinaman 
as  if  he  were  a  perfect  stranger.  He  could  hardly 
believe  his  senses.  The  fat  face  was  the  same  and 
there  was  the  same  inscrutability  in  the  narrow, 
slanting  eyes,  but  the  man's  manner  had  changed 
mightily;  all  its  previous  subserviency  had  gone  and 
there  was  now  a  dignity  about  the  quondam  servant 


146  THE  IVORY  BALL 

which  had  never  been  shown  but  once,  and  that  in 
the  desert.  The  young  man  was  not  as  much  aston 
ished  at  what  had  been  said  as  at  the  metamor 
phosed  coolie  himself;  he  had  never  seen  him  in  this 
mood,  and  there  was  something  about  him  which 
commanded  a  feeling  he  was  unused  to;  that  of  fear 
of  a  fellow  man.  The  poise  of  Fung  Wang  was  per 
fect,  his  calmness  unruffled,  and  that  he  considered 
the  American  infinitely  his  inferior  was  as  plain  as  if 
the  feeling  had  been  set  to  words.  He  seated  him 
self  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  and' opening  a 
humidor  took  out  a  handful  of  cigarettes. 

"Try  these,  sir.  No,  you  need  not  be  afraid — 
they  are  harmless.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  take  away 
your  senses  again — in  that  way.  I  have  accom 
plished  most  of  my  purpose;  the  rest  depends  upon 
yourself." 

"Your  depth  is  profound,"  returned  Laurens.  "I 
think  an  explanation  is  due  me.  Fung  Wang,  you 
masqueraded  as  a  coolie  once,  now  you  mask 
as  a " 

"I  beg  your  honored  pardon,"  came  the  quick  in 
tervention.  "I  am  not  en  masque.  I  am  a  mandarin 
of  China.  My  house  is  that  of  the  Flying  Dragon. 
My  name  is  Chow  T'su." 

"Delighted,  I'm  sure!"  was  the  sarcastic  return. 


THE  AWAKENING  147 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  useless  to  ask  why  you  posed 
as  a  coolie,  or,  perhaps  as  a  coolie  are  posing  as  a 
person  of  distinction." 

.  "It  would  not  be  useless,"  was  the  purring  re 
joinder.  "Come  sir,  I  would  not  insult  you.  I  will 
play  my  game  with  all  my  cards  face  up." 

"Where  is  Miss  Dalzell?" 

"That  in  good  time,  sir,  again  depending  on  your 
self.  As  for  you,  you  are  my  honored  guest." 

"Then  bring  me  my  clothing  and  terminate  your 
hospitality.  I  fail  to  value  it.  How  long  have  I 
been  here?" 

"About  twelve  hours,  Mr.  Laurens;  and  the  door 
will  open  for  you — in  the  near  future,  I  hope.  I 
have  tried  to  provide  for  your  comfort  even  to  giv 
ing  you  these,  my  private  apartments." 

"What  in  the  devil's  name  are  you  driving  at?" 
demanded  the  young  man.  "You  have  the  cursed 
ball,  which  at  least  is  not  yours !  What  more  do 
you  wish?  How  did  you  know  I  was  alive?" 

"Sir,  your  manners  need  correcting,"  was  the  calm 
return.  The  Chinaman  lighted  a  cigarette,  inhal 
ing  its  smoke.  "Your  spirit  is  far  too  rough," 
he  continued,  exhaling  the  fumes  in  a  cloud  as  he 
spoke.  "Witness  your  attack  on  me  in  the  desert! 
It  will  be  my  pleasure  to  correct  that." 


148  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"What  in  hell  do  you  mean?" 

"You  are  crude,"  was  the  soft  return,  "yet,  doubt 
less,  you  would  boast  of  the  superiority  of  your 
breed.  Look!"  he  continued,  holding  out  the  ball. 
"This  ivory  was  carved  during  the  dynasty  of  She- 
T'su,  known  to  history  as  Kubla-Kahn,  the  Mongol, 
and  that  which  it  contains  belonged  to  Kong-fu-sie, 
whom  you  know  as  Confucius.  It  is  the  Eye  of  God, 
and  for  fifteen  hundred  years  it  has  been  revered 
by  his  house,  which  is  mine,  the  house  of  Fei-Lung, 
the  Flying  Dragon. 

"Until  a  few  years  ago  it  lay  in  the  temple  which 
had  been  built  for  it  by  my  ancestors  in  Tientsin — 
lay  there  until  the  boasted  civilization  of  the  West 
invaded  my  country.  Then  a  weak  priest  brought 
down  a  curse  on  me  and  mine,  himself  succumbing 
to  the  curse  written  on  this  sacred  relic.  The  temple 
was  looted.  I  witnessed  the  outrage." 

For  a  moment,  the  Chinaman  paused,  and  into 
his  little  eyes  there  came  a  look  of  hatred  and  fury 
as  his  words  seemed  to  conjure  up  that  picture  out 
of  the  past  which  proved  to  the  waiting  Laurens 
that  it  was  no  small  matter  to  the  fanatical  Oriental. 
Then  slowly,  reminiscently,  with  venom  in  each 
word,  Fung  Wang,  or  Chow  T'su,  began  to  speak. 

It  was  almost  as  though  he  had  forgotten  he  had 


THE  AWAKENING  149 

an  auditor.  He  seemed  to  be  recalling  tne  scenes 
of  that  distant  time  as  a  cherished  memory  of 
hatred.  But  as  he  spoke,  and  with  an  eloquence  that 
Laurens  would  never  have  suspected  him  of  pos 
sessing,  with  a  might  of  descriptive  power,  there 
envisioned  itself  before  the  eyes  of  the  American's 
mind  a  vivid  picture  of  the  temple's  looting  and  the 
events  that  led  to  it. 

It  was  high  noon  in  the  city  of  Tientsin  on  a  July 
day  in  1900.  The  willows,  pines  and  walnuts  in 
the  grove  of  the  Temple  of  the  Eye  of  God 
trembled  under  the  jar  of  distant  heavy  guns. 

For  Tientsin,  the  Beautiful,  was  being  besieged  by 
the  "Allied  Armies  of  the  West" — English,  French, 
United  States,  Russian,  Italian,  Japanese,  and  Ger 
man.  The  uprising  of  the  I-Ho-Chuan,  or  Society 
of  Righteous  Fists,  otherwise  the  "Boxers,"  had 
brought  Western  civilization  to  the  rescue  of  its 
children.  In  Pekin,  the  white  and  Christian  popu 
lation  had  fled  to  the  uncertain  protection  of  the 
legations  and  none  knew  their  fate — none  could 
know  until  the  way  was  opened  to  the  Imperial  City, 
and  Tientsin  was  its  gate. 

History  tells  of  that  day's  combat — of  the  breach 
ing  of  the  ancient  walls  by  the  allies — of  the  mas- 


150  THE  IVORY  BALL 

sacre  of  Chinamen,  and  the  subsequent  looting  which 
disgraced  the  Powers  and  their  boasted  civilization. 

But  in  the  grove,  on  the  far  side  of  Tientsin,  save 
for  the  portentous  roar  of  artillery,  it  was  very  quiet 
that  noon;  even  the  birds  were  still  beneath  the  spell 
of  fear  and  the  hot  sun. 

The  Temple  of  the  Eye  of  God  was  of  itself 
small,  but  like  all  Oriental  places  of  worship,  it 
was  ornate  with  gargoyles,  grotesque  carvings  and 
wide  projecting  eaves.  The  box-like  huts  of  the 
beggar-priests  of  the  order  stretched  out  on  either 
hand,  insignificant  hovels  without  interest,  and  domi 
nated  by  the  central  structure  which  was  itself  almost 
dominated  by  the  flight  of  wide  steps  leading  to  the 
entrance  from  an  avenue  lined  with  ancient  stone 
lanterns.  The  whole  was  the  embodiment  of  Chi 
nese  spirit  four  thousand  years  old,  and  was  dedi 
cated  to  Confucius,  who  erected  a  code  of  morals 
which  has  advanced,  or  declined,  into  a  religion. 

The  dim  interior  of  the  temple  was  characteristic. 
There  was  the  usual  array  of  hideous  gods,  teak- 
wood  carvings  black  with  age,  gilded  scroll-work, 
smouldering  joss-sticks,  beautifully  embroidered  silk 
banners,  jade  ornaments,  porcelain  jars  of  fabulous 
worth,  black  rafters  beginning  and  ending  in  dark 
ness,  and  nooks  buried  in  deep,  mysterious  shadow 


THE  AWAKENING  151 

from  which  anything  might  come.  It  was  a  perfect 
nightmare  of  a  place  to  the  Occidentalist — a  place 
suggestive  of  secret  orgies  and  revolting  ceremonies. 
The  cold,  set  faces  of  the  grotesque  idols  seemed  to 
have  a  repellent  intelligence.  One  had  the  desire  to 
look  on  the  tesselated  floor  for  traces  of  old  blood 
stains. 

The  exceptional  feature  to  this  interior  was  some 
thing  which  resembled  an  altar  in  a  Christian  church. 
It  was  of  elaborately  carved  teakwood  inlaid  with 
ivory  darkened  by  time,  and  built  high  upon  it  was 
a  pagoda-like  reliquary — the  compartment  which 
held  the  Eye  of  God  itself. 

Travelers  in  China  have  remarked  that  a  real 
worshipper  is  rarely  seen  in  any  temple,  but  on  this 
day  there  were  two  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  Eye  of 
God,  one  prostrate  before  the  altar,  his  shaven  fore 
head  pressed  to  the  checkered  pavement  in  an  atti 
tude  of  extreme  devotion.  His  dress,  his  long,  pol 
ished  finger-nails  and  his  silk-entwined  queue  showed 
him  to  be  an  aristocrat,  while  the  broad,  black 
squares  on  the  breast  and  back  of  his  silk  robe, 
squares  in  which  was  embroidered  the  figure  of  a 
crane,  and  the  coral  button  on  top  of  his  silk  cap, 
showed  him  to  be  a  Civil  Mandarin  of  the  First 
Class.  Behind  him  bent  a  young  man,  or  boy,  bear- 


152  THE  IVORY  BALL 

ing  the  white  wand  of  a  majordomo.  By  the  closed 
door  of  the  reliquary  stood  a  tall  priest  in  ancient 
ceremonials,  his  head  bent,  his  hands  crossed  upon 
his  breast,  but  his  attitude  of  humility  did  not  hide 
the  fire  in  his  oblique  eyes.  Two  or  three  minor 
priests  stood  in  the  shadowy  background,  all  in  pos 
tures  of  devotion. 

Presently  the  mandarin  arose  and  the  boy  stood 
by  his  side.  At  that  moment  the  rumbling  thunder 
of  guns  suddenly  ceased.  The  priest  let  fall  his  cere 
monial  attitude,  and  spoke : 

"Does  Chow  T'su  bring  news?"  he  asked  in  a 
colloquial  voice. 

"I  bring  warning,"  was  the  mandarin's  return. 
"Li-Hung-Chang  is  a  fool!  No  argument  but  that 
of  victorious  force  ever  appeals  to  him.  Now  he 
will  have  to  bend  before  the  foreign  devils.  They 
"will  win.  Do  you  mark  the  sudden  silence?" 

The  priest  bowed.  "And  your  Highness's  warn 
ing?" 

"Though  its  secret  is  not  known,  the  Eye  of  God 
is  in  danger.  The  sacred  relic  is  no  longer  safe,  and 
once  it  is  lost  my  house  will  fall — my  ancestors  will 
sorrow — my  life  be  undone." 

"But  the  written  command " 

''I  know,"  interrupted  the  other,  something  like 


THE  AWAKENING  153 

a  spasm  passing  over  his  fat  face.  "...  the 
written  command  is  that  no  violence  must  be  used 
in  defending  it.  But  the  priests  of  the  temple  must 

protect  it.  It  may  be  hidden  in  holy  ground 

Hark!" 

The  exclamation  was  caused  by  a  distant  cry 
which  was  not  repeated. 

"After  all,"  continued  the  mandarin,  "what  is 
there  to  fear.  Kong-fu-cie  will  protect  his  temple 
as  well  as  the  honor  of  his  house,  Fei-Lung,  the 
Flying  Dragon !  I  would  look  upon  the  relic  once 
again.  Let  me  see  and  worship." 

The  priest  bowed  in  silence  and  advanced  to  the 
front  of  the  altar  where  he  prostrated  himself,  then 
arising,  opened  the  door  of  the  reliquary.  Within 
was  a  jade  box  which  he  took  out  and  placed  upon 
the  altar.  As  he  lifted  the  cover  Chow  T'su  again 
bowed  low,  his  forehead  touching  the  floor. 
Straightening  himself  he  looked  reverently  at  the 
thing  within  the  box.  Like  one  under  an  inspiration 
he  began  to  whisper,  addressing  his  attendant: 

"Mow-Sing,  behold  the  Eye  of  God  upon  which 
none  but  those  of  the  house  of  the  Flying  Dragon 
have  ever  looked  and  lived!"  He  spoke  in  the  sing 
song  of  a  Chinese  ritual,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  what, 
in  the  dim  light,  appeared  to  be  a  black  ball  of  about 


154  THE  IVORY  BALL 

the  size  and  shape  of  a  small  egg.  In  one  end  of  it 
something  glittered. 

He  went  on,  his  voice  rising.  "Once  it  belonged 
to  the  great  Kong-fu-cie.  It  has  rested  in  his  hand 
and  felt  the  dew  of  his  divine  breath.  It  is  the  talis 
man  of  his  family,  of  which  you  are  one  and  I  am 
the  head.*  Upon  it  is  carved  his  command,  and 
his  curse  follows  the  mortal  who  disobeys  it." 

The  man  was  growing  excited.  His  slits  of  eyes 
enclosed  in  fat  glowed  like  a  miser's  as  he  counts 
his  increasing  hoard,  and  his  voice  had  risen,  when 
above  it  came  the  crack  of  a  rifle  close  at  hand,  the 
shot  being  followed  by  the  sound  of  running  feet 
and  the  shouts  of  men. 

It  was  the  mandarin  who  first  gathered  the  im 
port  of  the  sudden  interruption.  "The  city  has 
fallen!"  he  shouted,  and  stretched  out  his  arm  for 
the  ball;  but  the  priest  was  too  quick  for  him.  Strik 
ing  up  the  advancing  hand  he  snapped  down  the  jade 
cover  of  the  miniature  chest,  pushed  it  into  its  re 
pository  and  closed  the  door.  He  had  hardly  done 
so  when  the  entrance  of  the  temple  was  burst  open 
and  several  panic-stricken  Chinese  soldiers  rushed 
in,  closely  followed  by  a  disorderly  squad  of  German 

*At  this  day  there  exists  in  China  about  two  hundred  and  fifty 
lineal  descendants  of  Confucius. 


THE  AWAKENING  155 

yagers.  Without  listening  to  appeals  for  mercy  they 
cut  down  the  fugitives,  then  looked  around  the  dim 
interior. 

But  they  saw  little.  By  then  the  mandarin  had 
disappeared,  the  boy,  Mow-Sing,  was  crouched  in  a 
corner,  the  lower  priests  had  fled  shrieking  and  only 
the  Chief  of  the  Temple  stood  to  confront  them, 
his  thin  figure  drawn  to  its  full  height,  his  back 
against  the  sacred  altar  and  in  his  hand  the  ancient 
Chinese  battle-ax  which  had  been  for  years  sleeping 
beneath  the  shrine. 

More  Germans  came  running  in,  and  one  of  them 
tilted  his  broad  bayonet  against  a  wooden  idol  near 
the  priest,  the  blow  splitting  the  hideous  head  from 
brow  to  chin.  The  man  lived  only  long  enough  to 
catch  the  gleam  of  a  descending  ax  and  a  pair  of 
fiery  eyes. 

His  death  was  all  that  was  needed.  Half  an 
hour  later  but  little  remained  of  the  interior  of  the 
Temple  of  the  Eye  of  God.  The  altar  and  the 
reliquary  were  overthrown  and  splintered,  the 
ancient  jars  demolished,  the  banners  torn,  the  carv 
ings  destroyed,  the  gods  defiled.  Everything  that 
could  be  wrecked  was  wrecked  and  over  the  wanton 
destruction  glared  the  few  idols  which  were  too 
heavy  to  be  more  than  marred. 


156  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Amid  the  debris  lay  the  bodies  of  the  slain  China 
men,  and  among  them  was  that  of  the  devoted 
priest.  Mow-Sing,  with  the  cunning  of  his  kind,  had 
saved  his  life  by  feigning  death,  and  lay  face  down 
on  receiving  a  stunning  blow  from  the  butt  of  a  Ger 
man  musket. 

After  its  complete  demolition  the  place  was  de 
serted  as  suddenly  as  it  had  been  entered,  but  the 
last  soldier  to  leave,  a  German  sergeant,  noticed 
something  lying  on  the  floor  among  the  green  frag 
ments  of  a  jade  box.  He  picked  it  up.  It  was  a 
carved  ivory  ball  black  with  age.  Dropping  it  into 
his  pocket  as  a  souvenir  he  ran  out  and  joined  his 
looting  companions. 

He  had  not  seen  the  mandarin  who,  having 
thrown  off  his  robe,  had  climbed  to  a  shadowy  rafter 
and  witnessed  the  entire  outrage,  horror  and  fear 
in  his  cowardly  heart  and  hate  in  his  narrow  eyes. 
He  saw  the  German  take  the  sacred  talisman  from 
the  floor  and  go  out,  and  then,  when  the  place  be 
came  quiet,  he  climbed  from  his  perch  and  grovelled 
on  the  blood-stained  pavement  in  an  ecstasy  of  men 
tal  suffering  and  spiritual  degradation.  Finally  he 
crawled  to  the  remains  of  the  dead  priest  and  knelt 
beside  it.  "Even  you — a  priest  of  the  temple — have 
fallen  under  the  curse!"  he  muttered.  "You  dared 


THE  AWAKENING  157 

to  raise  a  weapon  in  defence  of  God's  Eye !  You 
have  disobeyed!"  Then,  like  a  man  half  demented, 
Chow  T'su  sent  up  a  vow  to  his  ancestors — a  vow, 
the  sacredness  of  which  can  be  understood  only  by 
a  Chinaman.  In  his  own  conscience  Chow  T'su, 
mandarin,  pagan,  rich,  powerful,  and  as  cruel  as  a 
Chinese  hell,  had  lost  caste  to  himself  through  the 
loss  of  the  talisman  of  his  family,  and  he,  the  leader 
of  the  house  of  the  Flying  Dragon,  could  not  hold 
up  his  head  again  until  his  honor  was  vindicated  by 
its  recovery.  Oriental  ethics  decreed  that  his  pres 
tige  had  gone  and  could  not  be  restored  until  he 
had  "saved  his  face"  by  restoring  the  Eye  of  God 
to  the  temple  which  had  been  its  resting  place  for 
more  than  a  thousand  years. 

The  West  does  not  comprehend  the  thought  of 
the  East,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  it  ever  will.  For  the 
West  believes  in  the  body  politic,  the  East  in  the 
individual.  China  has  no  patriotism;  it  even  has  no 
national  air;  every  man  is  for  himself  and  the  devil 
may — and  does — take  the  hindmost. 

For  that  reason  Mow-Sing  lay  neglected  by  his 
master;  and  when  that  master  finally  crept  away  in 
the  twilight  the  boy  awoke  to  full  consciousness  and 
found  himself  alone.  His  wand  of  office  was  broken. 
He  knew  he  was  an  outcast.  He,  too,  crept  away. 


158  THE  IVORY  BALL 

And  so  night  fell  over  Tientsin. 

Once  more  Chow  T'su  paused  and  this  time  Lau- 
rens  knew  the  man  was  scanning  the  years  that  lay 
between  the  time  of  which  he  had  spoken  and  the 
present.  And  his  thoughts  were  not  pleasant.  The 
cruelty  that  shone  from  the  little  eyes,  the  obvious 
desire  for  vengeance,  spoke  as  plainly  as  any  words. 
He  suddenly  seemed  to  remember  that  he  was  ex 
plaining  for  the  benefit  of  Laurens — was,  as  he  had 
expressed  it,  "playing  the  game  with  his  cards  face 
up."  Well,  he  had  explained.  Now  Laurens  knew 
the  significance  of  the  ivory  ball,  and  there  v,  as  that 
confidence  in  the  relator's  manner  that  showed  that 
it  could  not  matter  now — that  Laurens  would  never 
be  in  a  position  to  make  use  of  his  knowledge  or  to 
impart  it.  Chow  T'su  looked  at  his  unwilling  guest 
confidently  and  went  on: 

"That  soldier  of  an  empire  based  on  a  rotten 
foundation  who  discovered  the  Eye  of  God  knew 
nothing  of  its  value.  Later  he  sold  it  to  an  Ameri 
can — a  Colonel  Dalzell — for  a  mere  nothing.  But 
he  paid  for  his  crime  against  the  house  of  Fei-Lung, 
as  all  must  do  who  touch  the  ivory  ball — for  that 
night  the  soldier  was  killed  in  a  drunken  row." 

Another  pause;   then   Chow  T'su   took  up  the 


THE  AWAKENING  159 

thread  of  his  narrative,  but  a  change  had  come  in  his 
manner.  Almost  it  were  as  though  he  pleaded  for 
understanding  and  compassion. 

"Sir,"  he  said,  holding  up  the  ivory  ball,"  my  soul 
died  with  the  loss  of  this.  Over  the  body  of  that 
murdered  priest  I  made  a  vow,  and  a  Chinaman  is 
true  to  his  vows.  I  have  carried  mine  to  a  finish, 
It  was  easy  for  me  to  trace  the  ball  to  the  colonel, 
who  recognized  it  as  a  rare  work  of  art,  if  nothing 
else,  and  then  I,  of  a  great  house,  demeaned  myself 
to  becoming  a  servant  to  a  foreigner. 

"The  day  came  when  Colonel  Dalzell  accidentally 
discovered  the  secret  of  the  Eye  of  God,  and  he 
foolishly  told  it  to  his  half-brother.  You  wonder 
why  I  did  not  kill  the  colonel  when  by  doing  so  I 
could  have  possessed  myself  of  this  more  than 
precious  thing.  Sir,  I  would  have  done  so,  as  I 
would  have  killed  you,  only  for  the  command  written 
here.  It  is  not  permitted  to  obtain  or  retain  the 
relic  by  violence,  though  stealth  is  always  justified. 
Through  those  years,  however,  I  had  no  chance. 
The  ivory  ball  was  always  too  carefully  guarded 
for  even  my  cunning  to  obtain  possession  of  it  with 
out  using  force.  I  even  would  have  had  to  use  force 
with  the  pitifully  sick  man  you  saw,  for  he  was  the 


160  THE  IVORY  BALL 

worst  of  them  all.     See !     Here  is  the  command  dic 
tated  by  my  noble  ancestor!" 

With  his  long  finger-nail  Chow  T'su  traced  the 
obscure  characters  running  through  the  carved  scroll, 
the  characters  Professor  Woodstock  had  not  been 
able  to  read,  and  the  Chinaman's  voice  was  reveren 
tial  as  he  translated: 

"He  who  holds  me  unlawfully  shall  fade  like  the 
leaves  of  summer.  He  who  uses  violence  to  possess 
me  shall  die  accursed." 

"The  curse  has  worked.  The  priest,  the  soldier, 
the  colonel  and  his  criminal  brother,  are  dead.  You 
took  it  from  me  by  violence  and " 

"And  I  am  still  alive,"  interrupted  Laurens. 

"Your  saving  grace  was  that  you  did  not  take  it 
for  yourself.  However,  you  will  bear  witness  that 
I  have  not  used  violence  on  you." 

"You  make  a  cursed  fine  distinction,"  was  the  re 
turn.  Laurens  looked  at  the  ball  in  the  man's  hand 
and  could  not  help  feeling  a  species  of  reverence  for 
the  object  which,  from  the  Chinaman's  statement, 
was  older  than  the  Christian  religion.  That  Chow 
T'su  was  a  fanatic  admitted  of  no  doubt,  though 
the  fact  seemed  inconsistent  with  his  evident  educa 
tion.  Laurens  believed  his  story;  the  man  had  en- 


THE  AWAKENING  161 

dured  suffering,  insult,  and  had  even  risked  his  life 
to  obtain  the  ball.  It  was  hard  to  realize,  and  for 
the  moment  the  young  man  forgot  his  own  treat 
ment. 

"Do  you  have  faith  in  the  occult  powers  of  a  bit 
of  carved  ivory,  however  old?"  he  sneered. 

"Do  you  believe  in  wealth?  In  ambition?"  asked 
the  other,  in  a  peculiar  tone. 

"They  have  their  uses." 

"They  have,  indeed!  Sir,  I  am  rich.  Where  you 
can  lay  down  one  dollar  I  can  lay  down  three,  yet 
our  gold  combined  could  not  begin  to  purchase  either 
the  power  or  the  glory  of  this  ball  at  which  you  are 
inclined  to  scoff.  Even  from  your  Christian  standard 
of  values  you  will  confess  this.  Look,  sir!" 

As  he  spoke  the  last  words  he  pressed,  then 
twisted,  the  diamond  on  the  head  of  the  dragon  and 
the  semi-sphere  fell  apart  lengthwise.  The  China 
man  bowed  low  as  he  laid  the  segments  on  the  table. 

Laurens  was  more  than  astonished  at  the  fact 
that  the  ball  could  be  opened.  He  had  thought  of 
the  possibility  and  had  examined  it  closely  for  a 
hidden  joint  without  finding  one;  however,  as  Chow 
T'su  bowed  before  the  segments  of  the  ball  Laurens 
forgot  the  matter  of  its  opening  by  its  content.  In 
voluntarily  he  came  to  his  feet. 


162  THE  IVORY  BALL 

As  a  child  of  the  twentieth  century,  in  which  the 
unacknowledged  god  is  the  Almighty  Dollar,  he 
might  well  have  bent  low  himself;  for  snugly  fitted 
into  the  center  of  the  ovoid  was  an  enormous  uncut 
diamond  somewhat  larger  than  the  great  Koh-i- 
noor,  the  counterfeit  of  which  Laurens  had  seen  re 
produced  in  glass.  But  unlike  any  uncut  diamond  he 
had  ever  known  it  seemed  to  have  an  internal  light 
of  its  own — a  white  radiance  which  penetrated  the 
dull  surface  of  the  stone  and  gave  to  it  the  effect  of 
a  human  eye  overspread  with  the  veil  of  a  cataract. 
In  short,  the  thing  looked  like  a  white  eye  and  it  was 
easy  to  understand  why  it  had  been  called  the  Eye 
of  God. 

To  Laurens,  who  at  once  recognized  the  value  of 
the  gem,  it  was  no  wonder  that  Fung  Wang,  or  who 
ever  he  might  be,  had  devoted  years  to  its  posses 
sion;  it  was  no  wonder  that  the  pseudo-major,  an 
expert,  had  hated  to  die  and  leave  it.  The  innate 
cupidity  within  the  young  American — within  every 
man — came  to  the  surface  as  he  bent  over  the  won 
derful  stone.  "By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed,  carried 
away  by  the  gem's  magnificance,  "I  am  not  surprised 
that  you  took  a  risk  for  such  a  thing !  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  instead  of  letting  me  maul  you?" 

Before  answering  Chow  T'su  arose  to  his  feet 


THE  AWAKENING  163 

and  taking  the  halves  of  the  container  pressed  them 
together  with  a  faint  snap,  after  which  he  placed  the 
ball  in  his  bosom  and  folded  his  arms. 

"Would  you  have  believed  my  right  to  it?"  he 
asked.  "Would  you  have  quietly  passed  back  to 
me  that  which  is  worth  the  world  to  the  house  of 
Fei-Lung,  and  to  you  and  your  kind  more  than  a 
half  a  million  of  dollars?  I  distrust  your  veneer 
of  civilization.  More  than  a  year  ago  I  bowed 
before  your  insults,  I  bowed  before  your  will — and 
waited.  I  have  not  waited  in  vain.  In  assaulting 
me  you  perhaps  thought  you  were  doing  your  duty. 
You  were  not;  no  principle  was  considered;  you 
were  merely  playing  the  part  of  a  Don  Quixote,  for 
the  favor  of  a  girl." 

Laurens  colored.  "I  was  ignorant  of  the  facts, 
as  you  give  them,  and " 

"Does  God  or  man  condone  ignorance  of  the 
law?"  cut  in  the  Chinaman. 

"ChowT'su,"  returned  Laurens,  rising,  "I  believe 
all  you  have  told  me.  I  understand  your  motives, 
and  respect  them.  I  apologize  for  my  unwarranted 
assault  on  you.  Is  that  not  enough?" 

"No,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"You  are  taking  an  absurdly  tragic  view  of  a 
small  matter!" 


164  THE  IVORY;  BALL 

"Absurd!  A  small  matter!"  broke  out  the  Ori 
ental,  his  inscrutable  eyes  emitting  something  like  a 
flash.  "Sir,  my  family  dates  from  an  era,  not  a  year. 
My  pedigree  is  one  beside  which  the  aristocracy  of 
Europe  has  the  lineage  of  an  hour.  Beside  outrag 
ing  my  person  you  derided,  laughed  at  and  cursed 
my  ancestors.  Do  you  not  know  what  that  means 
to  a  Chinaman?" 

"But,  sir,  I  have  tendered  an  apology." 

"Confucius  says:  'He  who  rides  a  tiger  cannot 
dismount.'  ' 

"I  catch  your  meaning,"  returned  Laurens,  his 
temper  rising.  "You  admit  being  implacable.  Per 
mit  me  to  leave  your  house.  I  am  intruding." 

The  Chinaman  looked  at  him,  a  slow,  evil  smile 
spreading  his  thick  lips  and  disclosing  his  yellow 
teeth.  "Free  sitters  at  the  play  always  grumble 
most!"  he  said,  with  a  plain  expression  of  contempt. 
"Sir,  a  year  ago  I  lay  prostrate  before  you,  cut  to 
the  soul;  in  your  turn  you  shall  sink  your  pride  to 
the  dust." 

"To  you?  Submit  to  you?  Show  me  out  of  this 
cursed  place  instantly,"  demanded  Laurens,  taking  a 
threatening  step  toward  the  man.  Chow  T'su  backed 
a  pace  and  clapped  his  hands,  and  as  he  did  so  the 


THE  AWAKENING  165 

curtains  behind  him  parted  and  two  of  his  country 
men,  armed  with  bare  yataghans,  advanced  quickly 
to  his  side.    The  mandarin  smiled  broadly. 
"You  see,  my  friend!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 
A  GILDED  CAGE 

E.URENS  did  see.  The  significance  of  the  atti 
tude  of  the  still  smiling  Chinaman  and  his 
armed  retainers  came  to  him  with  the  nature 
of  a  shock.  He  saw  that  the  matter  was  one  not  to 
be  treated  lightly,  condoned  by  mere  apology  or  im 
proved  through  personal  violence.  It  became  plain 
to  the  angry  American  that  the  treacherous  Oriental 
was  terribly  in  earnest;  and  with  the  full  realization 
there  was  a  quick  appreciation  of  his  own  serious 
situation — a  knowledge  that  he  had  become  the  prey 
of  a  revengeful  fanatic.  And  what  of  Miss  Dal- 
zell?  In  his  consternation  his  face  might  have  re 
flected  his  thought  for  his  tormentor  seemed  to 
read  it. 

"Mr.  Laurens,"  said  Chow  T'su,  "the  feeling  I 
have  for  you  does  not  extend  to  any  other.  The  lady 
is  safe.  I  hate  your  nation.  I  hate  its  overbearing 
attitude  of  superiority,  and  have  taught  others  to 


A  GILDED  CAGE  167 

hate  as  I  do.  But  for  you  there  is  an  added,  per 
sonal  animus  which  I  hold  for  no  one  else.  The 
fate  of  the  woman  you  love  will  largely  depend  upon 
your  behavior.  Do  you  wish  to  see  her?" 

"Is  she  in  this  house?" 

"She  is,  as  a  respected  guest." 

"Take  me  to  her  at  once." 

"Do  you  demand  it  as  a  right,  or  ask  it  as  a 
favor?" 

Laurens  flamed,  forgetting  the  advantages  of 
policy.  "I  demand  it  as  a  right.  Why  should  I  ask 
a  favor  of  you?" 

"For  the  purpose  of  obtaining  it,  I  should 
imagine,"  was  the  cool  return.  "Your  present  spirit 
makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  comply  with  your 
wish.  You  will  have  to  acquire  both  patience  and 
respect — two  qualities  you  conspicuously  lack.  It 
will  be  my  happiness  to  become  your  teacher." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  a  calm  insolence 
that  was  staggering,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the 
presence  of  the  armed  retainers  Laurens  would  have 
thrown  himself  on  the  grinning  Oriental.  As  it  was 
his  impotent  rage  fairly  choked  him.  The  China 
man  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  then  turned  the 
knife  in  the  wound. 

"Let  me  assure  you  that  the  lady  in  question  has 


168  THE  IVORY  BALL 

no  expectation  of  seeing  you.  It  may  be  that  she 
will  lose  faith  in  you.  Later,  I  may  perhaps  bring 
you  together;  in  the  meantime  you  may  enjoy  life 
here  at  my  expense." 

"You  mean  that  you  will  lie  to  Miss  Dalzell?" 
The  other  bowed.    "You  might  truthfully  say  that 
I  have." 

"Good  God!    And  you  make  us  your  prisoners?" 
"Pardon    me!      You    are    my    honored    guests. 
Would  you  have  me  use  unnecessary  violence?    You 
did  that  once,  and  for  it  you  must  pay." 
"But  the  lady — why  did  you  trap  her?" 
"Sir,"   answered   Chow  T'su,    "I   did  not  know 
which  of  you  held  the  Eye  of  God.    I  took  you  both, 
and  to  a  man  of  your  penetration  it  must  be  plain 
that  Miss  Dalzell  can  not  be  freed  at  present.     She 
would  immediately  make  my  plans  abortive." 

"Curse  your  soul!"  exploded  Laurens.  "You 
lured  us  to  this  house  through  a  lie,  and  now  you 
hope  to  work  out  your  petty  vengeance  on  me  for 
doing  what  any  real  man  would  have  done  under  the 
circumstances!  How  did  you  know  of  my  exist 
ence?" 

"I  did  not  know  until  lately,"  was  the  calm  an 
swer.  "Until  two  days  ago  I  thought  you  had  es 
caped  me  by  dying  in  the  desert.  As  I  have  told 


A  GILDED  CAGE  169 

you,  I  will  play  my  cards  openly.  You  went  to  your 
friend,  Woodstock.  You  met  your  old  servant,  who 
is  of  my  house.  You  discussed  your  plans  with 
your  friend,  but  you  forgot  that  a  Chinaman  has  ears 
and  wits  and  knows  their  use.  Having  rediscovered 
the  talisman  what  should  Mow-Sing  do  but  come  to 
me?  You  will  surmise  the  rest." 

Laurens  ground  his  teeth.  "You  overlook  the 
fact  that  Professor  Woodstock  will  look  me  up!" 

"I  think  not,"  was  the  quiet  rejoinder.  "The 
honorable  Woodstock  received  a  note  yesterday 
afternoon.  It  was  from  the  honorable  Laurens  who 
regretted  that  the  indisposition  of  Miss  Dalzell  and 
his  own  sudden  call  from  town  would  compel  him 
to  postpone  meeting  Count  Lito-See  who,  by  the 
way,  could  not  have  furnished  the  knowledge  you 
have  already  acquired." 

"Your  ingenuity  is  hellish!"  shouted  the  young 
man,  now  beside  himself.  "Send  off  your  guard, 
you  coward,  and  meet  me  on  an  equal  footing.  I 
will  teach  you  a  lesson." 

"I  have  had  mine.  You  forget  that  I  am  to  be 
your  teacher  now." 

The  tone  was  exasperating  in  its  smoothness  and 
ease.  An  unholy  but  helpless  rage  possessed  the 
young  man  at  the  insulting  attitude  of  the  Chinaman. 


170  THE  IVORY  BALL 

He  could  hardly  think  coherently,  and  his  strength 
and  nerve  force  had  been  so  played  upon  by  the  drug 
from  the  effect  of  which  he  had  recently  recovered, 
and  the  enormity  of  the  conditions  surrounding  him, 
that  he  felt  fairly  sick.  But  he  had  sense  enough  to 
know  that  another  verbal  explosion  would  be  met  by 
the  sang  froid  of  his  tormentor,  and  as  an  indica 
tion  of  a  chafing  spirit  it  would  be  enjoyed.  He 
staggered  back  to  his  chair  and  sank  into  it. 

"I  will  leave  you  for  a  time,"  said  Chow  T'su, 
after  a  moment  of  quiet  contemplation  of  Laurens' 
lax  figure.  "You  have  here  all  the  necessities  of  life 
and  many  of  its  luxuries.  There  are  cigars  and 
cigarettes  in  the  humidor,  wines  in  the  sideboard  and 
books  in  the  case.  I  recommend  you  to  the  study 
of  Confucius.  If  you  wish  attendance  you  have  but 
to  strike  the  gong."  He  pointed  to  a  bronze  disk 
hung  from  a  bracket,  then  with  a  low  bow  backed 
through  the  hangings,  followed  by  his  silent  guards. 
Laurens  heard  the  door  open  and  close,  and  he 
heard  it  lock. 

Long  he  sat  alone  in  his  elegant  prison  unheeding 
the  passage  of  time — long  enough  for  him  to  get  his 
thoughts  into  something  like  order.  Though  the 
conditions  were  monstrous,  he  realized  that  he  must 
make  no  attempt  at  violence  until  it  could  be  done 


A  GILDED  CAGE  171 

on  a  firmer  basis  than  had  yet  been  offered  him.  He 
saw,  too,  that  whatever  vengeance  the  Chinaman 
had  planned  it  might  be  taken  with  but  small  risk. 
No  one  but  Woodstock  would  much  care  where  he 
was,  and  Woodstock  had  been  provided  for.  As  for 
the  young  lady;  if  Chow  T'su  had  not  lied  she  was 
in  the  house  and  would  be  missed  from  her  home. 
And  certainly  she  would  be  searched  for,  though 
Laurens  considered  that  the  chances  of  her  being 
found  were  not  great.  Doubtless  her  wily  captor 
had  provided  for  that  contingency  as  he  had  for 
others. 

The  young  man  made  up  his  mind  to  one  thing: 
Until  force  could  be  used  to  advantage  he  would 
meet  his  oily  host  on  the  latter's  chosen  ground  of 
formal  courtesy  and  a  diplomatic  concealment  of 
real  intentions. 

It  was  with  a  suffocating  feeling  of  desperation 
that  Laurens  arrived  at  these  conclusions,  and  by 
then  physical  action  had  become  necessary  if  he  was 
to  retain  his  mental  balance.  To  relieve  the  terrible 
tension  of  his  nerves  he  arose  and  set  about  examin 
ing  his  prison. 

A  short  inspection  proved  that  his  jailer  had  not 
deceived  him  regarding  the  luxuries  of  the  place,  for, 
beside  the  main  apartment,  there  was  an  elegant 


172  THE  IVORY  BALL 

bathroom,  a  small  dining-room,  perfect  in  its  Ori 
ental  appointments,  and  in  another  but  smaller 
apartment  was  a  den,  or  completely  furnished  opium 
joint,  with  its  lamp,  pipes  and  a  divan,  beside  a 
quantity  of  the  drug  itself.  These  rooms  were  sepa 
rated  by  movable  screens  some  eight  feet  high,  the 
entire  suite  being  lighted  only  by  the  skylight  and 
the  electric  fixtures  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  the 
latter  still  glowing  though  it  was  now  broad  day. 

Laurens  again  examined  the  walls  behind  the 
hangings  and  discovered  a  small  door  he  had  pre 
viously  overlooked.  It  led  from  the  opium  den  but 
it  was  knobless  and  immovable.  He  figured  that 
Chow  T'su  had  made  his  dramatic  appearance  by 
its  means,  but  it  offered  no  chance  for  escape.  Sud 
denly  the  solution  of  the  character  of  his  quarters 
dawned  on  the  young  man.  He  was  in  what  had  at 
one  time  been  the  picture-gallery  of  the  mansion; 
the  undecorated  and  nail-scored  walls,  together  with 
the  long  skylight,  told  him  that.  And  it  was  equally 
clear  that  the  great  room  had  been  altered  to  suit 
the  Oriental  taste  for  compactness  and  elegance. 

Having  finished  a  general  inspection  the  young 
man  went  into  details,  examining  each  piece  of  fur 
niture  and  testing  its  weight.  A  teakwood  cabinet 
near  the  piano  brought  him  hope.  In  one  of  its 


A  GILDED  CAGE  173 

drawers  he  found  his  watch  and  pocket  accessories, 
and  in  pulling  open  a  small  cupboard  he  discovered 
a  revolver  lying  on  a  shelf  where  it  had  probably 
been  forgotten.  In  a  flash  he  transferred  it  to  the 
folds  of  his  gown  and  continued  his  examination.  In 
a  large,  tray-like  drawer  he  came  upon  an  array  of 
drugs  laid  in  perfect  order,  each  vial  clearly  labeled 
with  such  names  as:  "Chloroform,"  "Sat.  Sol.  Hyd. 
Chloral,"  and  "Potasse  Cyanide."  It  was  a  deadly 
array  of  virulent  poisons,  and  he  wondered  why 
they  were  there.  In  another  drawer  was  a  set  of 
razors  and  shaving  essentials,  and  in  still  another 
he  found  a  rope  of  silk,  one  end  of  which  was  fast 
ened  into  the  hangman's  conventional  noose. 

There  was  little  else  to  interest  him.  In  the  buffet 
were  wines  of  various  kinds,  together  with  brandy 
and  whisky,  enough  to  last  a  toper  for  months,  and 
its  polished  top  was  set  with  filled  decanters  and 
sparkling  wine  glasses. 

Having  satisfied  himself  that  there  was  no  one 
concealed  by  the  draperies,  but  with  the  fear  that 
there  was  an  eye  on  him  from  some  loophole,  he 
lay  down  on  the  bed  like  one  aweary,  as  indeed  he 
was,  and  with  his  hope  fixed  on  the  revolver,  en 
deavored  to  discover  if  it  was  loaded.  He  soon 
found  that  it  was.  He  could  feel  the  ridges  of  the 


174  THE  IVORY  BALL 

five  cartridges  in  the  chamber  and  on  extracting  one 
felt  the  pointed  bullet  which  capped  it. 

The  possession  of  a  charged  weapon  gave  Lau- 
rens  courage  and  the  steadying  effect  he  needed, 
and  with  the  quieting  of  his  nerves  he  discovered 
that  he  was  ravenously  hungry.  Remembering 
Chow  T'su's  directions  he  arose  and  banged  on  the 
gong.  The  summons  was  almost  instantly  answered 
by  the  same  Chinaman  who  had  previously  been 
deaf  to  his  questions. 

"Bring  breakfast,"  he  demanded,  as  if  he  were 
master.  The  man  bowed  and  retired.  In  something 
like  twenty  minutes  he  appeared  at  the  hangings  of 
the  opening  of  the  dining-room,  though  how  he  got 
there  was  a  mystery  to  Laurens.  Bowing,  he  pulled 
the  drapery  aside  and  the  prisoner  saw  a  low  table 
on  which  was  a  plentiful  supply  of  food.  He  ate 
heartily  in  spite  of  the  fear  that  he  might  be 
drugged,  his  attendant  quick  to  fill  every  want, 
though  not  a  word  did  he  speak.  And  Laurens  did 
not  speak;  neither  did  he  threaten.  His  line  of 
action  was  not  yet  clear  and,  moreover,  he  felt  it 
would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  deal  first  with  a  ser 
vant;  Chow  T'su  was  the  only  one  to  whom  an  ap 
peal  to  arms  would  prove  effective. 

The  young  man  finished  his  meal  without  any  of 


A  GILDED  CAGE  175 

the  ill  results  he  had  feared,  and  returned  to  die 
larger  chamber.  And  there  he  sat  smoking  and 
thinking  while  the  hours  went  by  and  until  the  sun 
went  down  and  the  skylight  dimmed.  The  Silence 
was  oppressive;  not  a  sound  came  from  outside,  nor 
did  anyone  intrude  on  him,  and  he  was  so  wrapped 
in  his  thoughts  that  he  took  little  note  of  time 
until  the  coolie  came  in  again,  lighted  the  lamp, 
turned  on  the  electric  illumination  and  stood  bowing 
before  him  as  if  waiting  for  orders.  By  then  Lau- 
rens  had  come  to  a  fixed  determination  and  knew 
about  what  he  was  going  to  do. 

"Tell  your  master  I  wish  to  see  him,"  he  com 
manded. 

The  man  made  a  profound  bow  and  departed. 
Presently  the  door  opened  and  Chow  T'su  strode 
into  the  room.  "You  sent  for  me?" 

"I  did.  As  a  host  who  makes  a  virtue  of  his  hos 
pitality  you  are  remiss;  you  should  at  least  dine  with 
your  guest,  and  he  is  starving."  The  words  though 
quietly  spoken  were  hardly  conciliatory. 

"I  hope  I  know  my  duty  as  a  host,"  was  the  soft 
return.  "I  was  awaiting  your  honorable  pleasure 
and  had  begun  to  think  you  washed  to  starve  me.  I 
fear  the  day  has  been  monotonous  to  a  degree.  I 


176  THE  IVORY  BALL 

invite  you  to  a  change.  You  will  dine  with  me  in 
another  apartment." 

"What  time  is  it?"  asked  Laurens. 

"Eight  o'clock.  By  the  way,  you  will  find  your 
watch  and  valuables  in  the  cabinet.  I  will  escort 
you,  if  you  are  ready.  We  will  be  quite  informal." 

Laurens  set  his  teeth  to  curb  his  tongue,  bowing 
his  acquiescence.  The  Oriental  clapped  his  hands 
and  at  once  the  doors  were  thrown  open  and  the 
young  man  saw  the  hall  for  the  first  time;  he  also 
saw  three  Chinamen  standing  just  outside  of  the 
entrance  and  thought  it  well  that  he  had  not  acted 
hastily  and  threatened  Chow  T'su  when  he  first 
came  in. 

With  the  obsequiousness  of  a  servant  his  host 
bowed  before  him  as  he  led  the  way  into  the  hall. 
It  was  a  great  corridor  with  a  number  of  tall  doors 
opening  into  it,  and  on  either  side  was  a  row  of 
Italian  marble  pillars.  The  floor  was  of  marble  and 
in  the  middle  of  it  was  a  board  on  an  easel.  It  was 
covered  with  Chinese  characters  and  at  its  foot  was 
a  deep  cushion.  Laurens  recognized  it  at  once  as 
the  ancestral  record  of  the  house  which  is  usually 
set  in  the  main  passage  of  a  Chinaman's  dwelling 
and  daily  worshipped  by  the  family.  Beyond  this 


A  GILDED  CAGE  177 

there  was  no  furniture  but  a  chair  and  an  earthen 
tray  by  the  door  from  which  Laurens  emerged. 

Preceded  and  followed  by  his  guards  he  went 
down  the  hall  with  Chow  T'su  by  his  side  until  they 
came  to  a  small  room.  Its  window  was  draped  and, 
like  the  hall,  it  had  little  furniture.  Beside  the  low 
table,  the  cushions  surrounding  it,  and  an  inlaid 
stand  on  which  stood  a  telephone  there  was  nothing 
in  the  way  of  fittings  though  the  walls  were  banked 
with  potted  palms.  In  the  ceiling  was  a  cluster  of 
shaded  electric  lights. 

As  Laurens  saw  the  telephone  he  saw  what  he 
considered  a  new  chance.  When  the  time  came  to 
act  he  would  shoot  Chow  T'su,  if  necessary,  dispose 
of  any  henchman  present,  barricade  the  door  with 
the  heavy  palms  and  send  a  message  to  the  police. 
It  would  be  very  simple,  and  the  law  would  justify 
him  for  killing  the  Chinaman,  if  he  remained  obdu 
rate.  The  picture  of  subsequently  freeing  Josephine 
flashed  through  his  mind,  and  it  steadied  him  in  his 
purpose. 

Without  further  ceremony  Chow  T'su  motioned 
Laurens  to  a  seat  at  the  table  and  squatted  his  own 
fat   figure    opposite,    then  clapped   his   hands;    the 
guard  disappeared  and  two  waiters  came  in  loaded  $\ 
with  dishes  from  which  they  served  the  meal.     It 


178  THE  IVORY  BALL 

was  all  silently  and  swiftly  done  with  military  pre 
cision  and  without  a  word  being  spoken.  Laurens 
ate  with  the  appetite  of  a  healthy  animal  but  drank 
little  of  the  wine  offered,  not  wishing  to  muddle  his 
brains.  The  dinner  was  prosaic  enough,  its  courses 
differing  but  little  from  those  to  which  he  had  been 
used. 

"You  will  observe  that  I  have  altered  my  national 
custom  on  your  honorable  account,"  said  Chow  T'su, 
indicating  the  dishes  and  the  knives  and  forks  set 
with  each  plate,  instead  of  the  usual  chop-sticks. 
Laurens  made  no  reply  and  not  another  word  passed 
between  them  until  the  last  dish  was  removed  and 
cigars  were  brought  in.  The  attendants  were  then 
dismissed  and  the  two  were  alone. 

"Hereafter  the  honorable  Laurens  will  dine  by 
himself,"  said  the  Chinaman.  "His  irregular  hours, 
his  coarse  appetite  and  coarser  style  are  too  eccen 
tric  for  my  taste."  He  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  from 
his  lips. 

"The  honorable  Laurens  can  easily  forego  your 
company,"  returned  the  young  man  feeling  strong 
and  confident  after  his  meal. 

"And  have  you  no  request  to  make — one  not 
couched  in  the  terms  of  command?" 

"You  are  pleased  to  be  facetious,"  was  the  return. 


A  GILDED  CAGE  179 

"I  have  no  request,  but  I  have  a  direct  command  to 
make,  and  make  it  even  while  a  prisoner." 

"You  are  not  euphemistic;  say,  rather,  while  you 
are  an  honored  guest.  Indeed,  I  have  rarely  taken 
so  much  trouble  for  anyone  as  I  have  for  you." 

"I  will  give  you  either  more  or  less  trouble  in  the 
immediate  future,"  said  Laurens,  quickly  getting  to 
his  feet  and  drawing  the  revolver.  "Have  done  with 
your  dramatic  nonsense  and  set  me  at  liberty  at 
once.  Show  me  the  way  from  this  house." 

The  Chinaman  looked  at  the  weapon  without  be 
traying  the  least  emotion.  "Occidental  heroics!"  he 
observed.  As  he  spoke  his  cigar  fell  from  his  lips 
to  the  floor.  "Pick  it  up  and  hand  it  to  me,"  he 
commanded,  without  raising  his  voice. 

"Go  to  hell!"  was  the  vociferous  rejoinder. 

"So!"  returned  Chow  T'su.  "That  was  but  a 
test.  Your  answer  and  your  threatening  attitude 
prove  that  your  apology  to  me  was  but  lip  service ! 
What  would  you  do!"  he  asked,  recovering  his  cigar- 
and  pacing  it  to  his  lips. 

Laurens  spoke  with  passion.  "I  will  shoot  you 
like  the  dog  you  are  if  within  one  minute  you  do  not 
rise  and  show  me  out.  I  will  shoot  you  if  you  are 
treacherous — if  you  dare  call  for  help." 

"Yes?    You  appear  to  be  in  earnest!" 


180  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"I  am — in  deadly  earnest." 

The  Chinaman  looked  at  him  and  deliberately 
clapped  his  thick,  ring-bedecked  hands.  It  was  the 
last  straw.  Laurens  instantly  covered  him  with  the 
revolver  and  pulled  the  trigger.  But  the  only  result 
was  the  snap  of  the  falling  hammer.  Twice,  thrice 
he  cocked  the  weapon  and  attempted  to  shoot.  And 
then  he  noticed  the  smile  on  the  face  of  the  undis 
turbed  Celestial.  For  a  moment  his  heart  seemed  to 
stop  beating.  In  a  frenzy  he  broke  open  the  weapon 
and  in  an  instant  saw  the  cartridges  were  but  dum 
mies.  With  a  burning  face  he  flung  the  weapon 
from  him  and  sank  to  his  cushion  just  as  the  door 
opened  and  a  young  Celestial  came  in  bearing  the 
white  wand  of  a  tnajordomo.  Laurens  gave  one 
look  at  him.  "Mow-Sing!"  he  exclaimed. 

The  boy  appeared  not  to  have  either  seen  or 
heard  him  and  his  face  seemed  as  blank  as  a  stone 
as  he  turned  to  Chow  T'su.  "You  call?"  he  calmly 
inquired,  as  he  bowed  low. 

"I  did,"  was  the  return  in  English.  "Show  the 
honorable  Laurens  to  his  own  apartments.  He  has 
become  offensive." 


THE  ABYSS 

WITH  his  first  sense  of  utter  defeat  Laurens 
was  escorted  back  to  his  room.  Most  of 
the  night  was  consumed  in  walking  up  and 
down  like  a  caged  animal.  In  the  morning  his 
breakfast  was  served  by  his  dumb  attendant  and  it 
was  hardly  completed  when  Chow  T'su  appeared. 
He  came  alone,  but  Laurens  was  perfectly  aware  that 
his  guards  were  within  instant  call,  and  while  he  felt 
like  flying  at  the  man,  he  met  him  with  a  quietness 
that  astonished  himself,  though  his  spirit  was  as  yet 
unbroken. 

"I  am  pleased  to  see  that  my  guest  has  regained 
his  mental  balance,"  said  the  Chinaman.  "His  ex 
perience  last  evening  showed  he  has  little  control 
over  his  passions;  he  also  exposed  his  entire  lack  of 
penetration.  Permit  me  to  send  a  lesson  home. 
Confucius  says:  'He  who  fights  should  not  wield  a 
leaden  sword.'  ' 

"Curse  your  aphorisms!"  began  Laurens,  but  the 
other  interrupted  him. 

181 


182  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"You  are  enthusiastic  and  dramatic.  Allow  me 
to  finish.  That  revolver  with  which  you  threatened 
me  was  placed  where  I  knew  you  would  discover  it. 
It  was  not  like  this."  As  he  spoke  he  drew  a  small 
automatic  pistol  from  his  robe.  "Had  you  really 
assaulted  me  I  should  have  used  this  weapon,  there 
being  no  command  against  self-defense.  I  am  some 
thing  of  a  student  of  human  nature,  sir;  I  am  some 
thing  of  a  mind  reader  and  might  qualify  as  a  seer 
of  some  sort.  I  knew  what  it  would  be  natural  for 
you  to  attempt,  and  counted  on  your  superficial  ex 
amination  of  the  revolver  you  were  doubtless  de 
lighted  to  find.  One  of  your  weaknesses  is  that  you 
are  prone  to  jump  at  conclusions — you  are  too 
impetuous.  I  must  correct  this." 

He  spoke  with  exasperating  good  humor.  Lau- 
rens  was  inwardly  furious  but  he  knew  that  to  ex 
press  his  impotent  rage  would  only  please  the  China 
man.  With  all  the  ease  he  could  command  he  took 
a  cigar  from  the  humidor,  lighted  it  and  sat  down. 
Chow  T'su  followed  suit,  rolling  the  havana  be 
tween  his  coarse  lips.  After  looking  at  his  silent 
prisoner  for  a  moment  he  asked:  "Are  you  not  satis 
fied  here?" 

"I  am  satisfied  that  you  are  an  insatiable  brute — 


THE  ABYSS  183 

an  inhuman  monster,"  was  the  reply.  "When  is  this 
going  to  end?" 

"You  may  end  it  at  any  time,  my  friend." 

"How?" 

"I  think  I  have  left  opium  enough  in  the  smoking 
room,  but  you  would  find  the  contents  of  the  cabinet 
more  speedy.  Beside  the  lethal  liquids  there  are 
razors — or  perhaps  you  may  prefer  the  rope.  For 
give  me  for  these  details." 

Laurens  bounded  to  his  feet.  "You  mean  that 
you  would  drive  me  to  suicide!" 

"Nirvana,  my  friend,"  said  Chow  T'su,  throwing 
back  his  head  and  sending  a  thin  line  of  smoke 
toward  the  ceiling — "nirvana  ends  all  troubles,  even 
feng-dhuy.  Do  you  believe  in  feng-shuy  f  But  of 
course,  in  your  superior  enlightenment,  you  do  not." 
He  spoke  without  the  least  emotion. 

Laurens  could  not  answer  him;  for  the  moment 
he  was  dumb  from  shock. 

"Feng-shuy!"  continued  the  Chinaman.  "Ah,  it 
is  the  spirit  of  ill  luck!  It  hounds  some  men  to  their 
graves.  Yes,  it  exists  in  your  ultra-civilized  country, 
often  in  the  shape  of  poverty.  You,  John  Laurens, 
are  accounted  rich.  Did  you  ever  lift  feng-shuy  from 
a  human  being?  I'll  warrant  not!  How  many 
deaths  lie  at  the  door  of  the  thousands  you  inherited 


184.  THE  IVORY  BALL 

from  your  uncle  1  You  are  perhaps  astonished  that 
I  know  of  your  affairs.  Let  nothing  astonish  you ; 
my  arm  is  long.  Did  those  dead  men — men  of  the 
mines,  the  factory,  the  sea,  ever  wrong  you  or  yours 
as  you  have  wronged  me?  No.  They  died,  sapped 
of  means  and  spirit  that  you  might  prosper.  Had 
you  a  live  interest  in  them?  No.  You  were  passive. 
And  I  am  passive." 

The  quiet,  even,  unimpassioned  tone  of  the  man 
filled  Laurens  with  horror.  He  was  suddenly  look 
ing  into  a  bottomless  pit — the  abyss  of  death.  It 
was  clear  that  the  Chinaman  was  bent  on  no  small 
revenge;  he  wished  nothing  less  than  the  young 
man's  life,  and  was  hounding  him  into  taking  it  him 
self. 

"So  you  are  bent  upon  my  killing  myself !"  he  said, 
and  spoke  the  words  almost  mechanically. 

"I  see  the  idea  is  new  to  you,"  was  the  calm  reply. 
"I  was  hoping  it  was  not.  Personally,  I  would  not 
shed  your  blood,  at  present  your  pride  being  my 
great  concern."  The  Chinaman  arose  to  his  feel. 
"I  have  sworn  to  my  ancestors  to  humble  it,  and 
failing  in  that  the  rest  would  be  in  vain.  Your  own 
taking  off  would  prove  that  I  had  succeeded.  Action, 
my  friend;  action  and  nothing  less,  for  your  apolo 
gies  are  worthless;  you  have  already  disproved 


THE  ABYSS  185 

them.  By  the  glory  of  Confucius,  whom  you  de 
ride,  you  have  caused  me  to  feel  degraded,  but  now 
I  hope  soon  to  look  my  family  in  the  face.  I  can 
hardly  return  to  my  native  land  until  my  soul  is 
clean  before  my  ancestprs. 

"I  have  been  open  with  you.  I  will  still  be  open. 
My  household  is  large,  though  you  have  hardly 
glimpsed  it;  my  men  faithful.  I  lack  for  nothing  I 
desire.  In  bodily  comfort  I  suffer  from  nothing 
greater  than  the  circumstance  of  your  presence  here. 
You  alone  alter  my  life.  With  you  here  I  cannot 
enjoy  the  freedom  I  wish.  I  cannot  enjoy  my 
schooner  which  lies  in  the  bay;  I  cannot  enjoy  my 
automobile  journeys.  It  may  interest  you  to  know 
that  this  estate  was  purchased  by  me  on  speculation. 
I  shall  place  it  on  sale  at  once  and  remain  here  only 
until  your  generosity  sets  me  free  to  return  to  my 
own  country.  Sir,  I  wish  but  one  look  at  your  dead 
body,  self  slain,  and  promise  you  it  shall  not  be 
defiled.  As  the  French  say — voila  tout!" 

Laurens  could  only  look  at  him.  "Come,  sir," 
said  the  Chinaman,  "you  have  forced  me  to  appear 
discourteous  in  being  obliged  to  give  you  blunt  facts, 
your  comprehension  not  being  set  on  a  sharp  edge. 
I  will  leave  you  to  your  own  reflections."  And  he 
went  from  the  room. 


186  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Laurens  remained  like  one  under  a  spell,  but  he 
could  think.  He  saw  it  all  now;  the  whole  scheme 
had  come  to  him  with  the  suddenness  and  force  of 
an  explosion.  The  curse  of  the  ivory  ball  had  at 
last  struck  him.  To  the  end  of  obtaining  it  and 
compelling  his  suicide  he  had  been  lured  to  that 
house,  and  he  was  horror-struck  as  he  contemplated 
the  future.  The  terrible  silences,  the  solitude,  the 
studied  degradation  and  the  confinement,  together 
with  a  long  and  active  sense  of  resentment  would 
finally  unbalance  him,  and  there  was  no  knowing 
what  he  might  do  then.  Monotony  has  killed  many 
men  and  his  surroundings  were  not  of  the  kind  to 
stimulate  hopeful  imagination.  The  suffocating  ele 
gance  of  his  apartment  and  the  luxuries  at  his  com 
mand  tended  to  smother  even  that. 

He  looked  after  the  departing  monster  but  did 
not  move  for  some  time,  then,  like  one  bereft  of  his 
senses,  he  leaped  up  with  the  intention  of  doing 
something  to  bring  Chow  T'su  back.  He  would 
throttle  him  at  sight,  let  the  consequences  be  what 
they  might.  He  ran  to  the  entrance  and  grasping 
the  silver  knobs  shook  them  with  all  his  force,  when 
to  his  astonishment  the  door  opened  under  his  hand. 
And  to  his  greater  astonishment  there  was  no  guard 
outside.  The  hall  was  empty. 


THE  ABYSS  187 

At  this  discovery  his  heart  gave  a  great  bound. 
It  was  evident  that  at  the  Chinaman's  departure  the 
fastening  of  the  doors  had  been  overlooked.  No 
one  was  in  sight  and  there  was  not  a  sound  to  alarm 
him,  but  that  the  guard  had  but  recently  left  was 
shown  by  the  still  smoking  cigarette  stump  in  the 
earthen  tray  on  the  floor. 

A  sudden  sense  of  exultation  sent  the  blood  surg 
ing  through  Laurens'  veins,  and  his  nearness  to 
liberty  was  like  a  choking  hand  taken  from  his 
throat.  Instantly  his  nerves  quieted,  but  he  realized 
that  he  was  far  from  being  out  of  the  lion's  den; 
the  guard  might  return  at  any  moment.  To  make 
a  blind  dash  without  knowing  where  he  was  going 
would  be  worse  than  useless,  but  it  behooved  him  to 
get  to  some  cover  and  lay  out  a  line  of  action. 

Not  daring  to  go  back  to  his  now  hateful  room 
for  fear  of  being  locked  in,  he  quietly  closed  the  door 
and  hurrying  across  the  wide  hall  opened  the  door 
of  the  nearest  room,  or  that  directly  opposite  his 
own.  It  let  him  into  a  great  gilded  salon  absolutely 
barren  of  furniture  of  any  kind  and  lighted  only  by 
slits  in  the  closed  shutters  of  the  tall  French  win 
dows.  The  crystal  chandeliers,  brackets  and  wall 
mirrors  were  swathed  in  white  and  the  polished 
floor  was  thick  with  the  dust  of  months. 


188  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Laurens  discovered  that  the  windows  could  not 
be  opened  and  so  went  back  to  the  door.  The  hall 
was  still  empty  and  he  sped  over  the  marble  floor, 
his  felt  soles  making  no  noise,  trying  other  doors  as 
he  went,  but  they  were  fastened.  He  was  becoming 
hopeless  when  upon  trying  the  last  door  in  the  cor 
ridor  he  found  that  it  opened  into  familiar  quarters; 
it  was  the  room  in  which  he  had  dined  with  Chow 
T'su  the  night  before. 

But  now  there  was  no  table  set  for  a  meal  and 
the  character  of  the  place  had  changed;  the  decora 
tive  palms  had  been  removed,  the  heavy  curtains 
drawn  away  from  the  wide  window,  which  was  open, 
and  a  large  desk  and  several  chairs  had  been  intro 
duced,  giving  the  apartment  the  effect  of  a  plainly 
furnished  office.  Like  the  hall  it  was  empty  of  man 
kind. 

Laurens  ran  to  the  window  only  to  see  that  it 
might  as  well  have  been  barred  for  all  the  good  it 
would  do  him;  for  it  opened  upon  a  small,  closed 
court,  or  well,  around  which  arose  the  window- 
pierced  walls  of  the  mansion  which  he  saw  could  be 
hardly  less  than  a  palace  in  size  and  appearance, 
and  the  distance  to  the  concrete  pavement  was 
something  more  than  twenty  feet.  Even  in  his  des 
perate  state  he  recoiled  against  such  a  drop,  but  his 


THE  ABYSS  189 

disappointment  was  not  as  keen  as  it  might  have 
been,  for  there  was  the  telephone  on  the  stand  which 
he  had  noticed  the  night  before.  It  was  the  key 
that  would  open  his  prison. 

With  nervous  haste  he  grasped  the  instrument 
and,  snatching  the  receiver  from  its  hook,  placed  it 

to  his  ear,  but  instead  of  the  indefinite  buzzing 
caused  by  electrical  induction,  showing  the  wire  to 
be  "alive,"  there  was  no  sound  at  all  and  no  response 
came  from  the  central  station,  though  he  worked  the 
lever  for  fully  five  minutes.  The  thing  appeared 
to  be  as  dead  as  Caesar  and  as  useless.  He  was 
about  to  throw  it  down  in  despair  when,  like  music 
from  heaven,  there  came  a  click  and  the  sound  of  a 
man's  voice. 

"Hello!     What  is  it?" 

"For  God's  sake  send  for  the  police!"  returned 
Laurens,  his  nerves  tingling.  "I  am  imprisoned  in 
a  house!" 

"Imprisoned!     In  what  house?" 

"I  don't  know  where  I  am.  I  think  the  place  is 
in  the  suburbs." 

"What  number  is  your  phone?" 

"It  has  none  that  I  can  see.  Ah!  Connect  me 
with  the  Palace  Hotel." 


190  THE  IVORY  BALL 

'The  Palace  Hotel!"  came  back  the  voice. 
"Where  do  you  think  you  are?" 

"Somewhere  near  San  Francisco.  I  was  drugged 
and " 

The  interruption  came  sharp  and  quick.  "Your 
keeper  had  better  have  an  eye  on  you !  This  office 
is  in  Sacramento."  The  words  were  followed  by  a 
chuckling  laugh  which  Laurens  plainly  heard.  After 
that  came  the  click  of  a  hook  and  the  wire  passed 
into  its  old  condition  of  deadness. 

Laurens  was  frantic,  too  frantic  to  recognize  that 
the  speaker  at  the  other  end  of  the  line  was  entirely 
different  in  manner  from  the  trained  employe  of  the 
telephone  company — that  it  could  not  have  been  a 
central  office  which  had  answered  him.  And  he  was 
in  Sacramento!  If  so  he  had  been  insane  or  was 
insane  now.  Certainly,  at  that  moment  he  was  far 
from  being  well  balanced. 

With  a  groan  he  slammed  the  instrument  to  the 
floor  and  in  desperation  strode  to  the  door  and  flung 
it  open.  They  might  do  with  him  as  they  would; 
he  could  no  longer  help  himself,  and  for  one  single 
instant  he  thought  of  settling  the  whole  business  by 
going  back  and  satisfying  the  murderous  Chinaman. 
He  could  no  longer  stand  the  strain. 

But  this  was  but  a  momentary  weakness  and  a 


THE  ABYSS  191 

sight  of  the  still  empty  hall  changed  his  thoughts, 
though  it  did  not  cause  him  to  be  more  cautious.  In 
his  new  mood  of  carelessness  and  anger  he  moved 
up  the  hall,  passed  the  ancestral  record  on  its  easel, 
passed  his  own  door,  and  so  on  until  he  came  to  a 
broad,  marble-stepped,  bronze-railed  stairway  lead 
ing  upward.  He  was  about  to  take  to  it  without 
knowing  why,  when  he  suddenly  saw  his  way  to  free 
dom  as  he  noticed  that  to  his  right,  and  just  beyond 
the  flight  of  stairs,  was  a  short  but  broad  passage 
at  the  end  of  which  was  a  heavy  glass  door  guarded 
by  a  bronze  grill.  It  was  the  main  entrance  to  the 
mansion;  the  door  stood  half  open,  and  through 
the  space  came  the  rippling  purr  of  an  automobile 
engine  in  action. 

The  sight  of  this  egress  brought  a  new  and  sudden 
hope,  and  gathering  up  his  robe  Laurens  ran  to  it. 
A  limousine  with  its  curtains  drawn  and  its  door 
flung  wide  stood  in  a  covered  court  as  though  wait 
ing  for  someone,  and  at  the  end  of  the  court  was 
an  intricately  patterned  wrought-iron  gate.  It,  also, 
was  open,  as  the  whole  place  appeared  to  be,  and  a 
Chinese  attendant  stood  by  it,  his  back  toward 
Laurens. 

The  young  man  halted  and  took  observation. 
Beyond  the  gate  were  the  trees  of  a  park  and 


192  THE  IVORY  BALL 

through  them  he  caught  sight  of  the  glass  roof  of 
a  conservator)7.  Beneath  the  trees  the  lawn  was 
green,  and  over  all  was  a  sky  as  blue  as  the  waters 
of  Lake  Como.  The  air  was  loaded  with  the  odor 
of  flowers  and  the  scent  came  to  him  like  a  breath 
from  Elysium.  From  some  distant  steeple  there 
sounded  the  musical  beat  of  a  bell  striking  the  hour 
of  eleven.  It  was  all  entrancing  to  the  eye  and  ear. 
Never  had  the  outside  world  appeared  so  won- 
drously  beautiful. 

Laurens  thrilled,  but  his  gaze  did  not  remain  on 
what  lay  beyond  the  gate;  it  fell  to  the  man  stand 
ing  by  it  and  to  the  driver  at  the  wheel  of  the  wait 
ing  machine.  In  the  latter  he  thought  he  recognized 
the  stolid  chauffeur  who  had  driven  him  from  Cal- 
lamere's  to  his  prison.  Like  a  hound  pointing  his 
prey  he  looked  from  the  open  door  and  saw  free 
dom  save  for  the  stiff  attendant  and  the  motionless 
chauffeur.  Should  he  make  a  dash  for  liberty  and 
risk  all?  But  to  where?  Here  was  a  mansion  in 
an  extensive  private  park,  but  Laurens  had  no  idea 
of  the  direction  of  the  public  street,  while  to  follow 
the  broad  driveway  would  be  foolish;  he  would  be 
overtaken  in  a  minute,  and  to  make  a  fight  of  it 
would  be  useless;  he  had  no  weapon,  and  in  his 


THE  ABYSS  193 

weakened  state  would  be  no  match  for  either  of  the 
robust  men  before  him. 

Though  he  knew  that  mere  muscle  would  not  ac 
complish  his  liberty  he  was  not  entirely  hopeless, 
though  by  then  he  was  shaking  from  fear  of  dis 
covery  and  excitement.  Knowing  that  each  moment 
he  remained  at  the  door  lessened  his  chances  he 
acted  at  once,  his  actions  being  almost  automatic  and 
based  on  the  fact  that  the  driver  of  the  automobile 
was  expecting  someone  and  that  the  door  of  the 
machine  stood  wide  open.  Without  an  instant  of 
further  hesitation  he  drew  himself  up  and  without 
hurry  walked  down  the  marble  steps  and  entered 
the  limousine.  No  one  appeared  to  have  noticed 
him  and  his  only  self-put  question  was:  Had  the 
chauffeur  been  given  his  directions?  or  would  he 
turn  for  instructions  and  recognize  him?  He  was 
in  for  it  whatever  happened,  and,  pulling  the  door 
smartly  after  him,  as  a  signal  to  start,  he  dropped 
into  the  back  seat. 

The  automobile  did  not  move  but  the  fact  was 
lost  on  the  young  man;  for  as  he  fell  back  on  to  the 
yielding  cushion  he  found  he  was  not  alone;  the 
drawn  curtains  of  the  machine  had  concealed  an 
occupant. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
HUMILIATION 

IT  was  Chow  T'su.  If  the  Chinaman  was  angry 
he  was  far  from  showing  it,  for  he  only  smiled 
as  he  looked  into  the  appalled  face  of  his  vic 
tim.  "I  was  becoming  a  trifle  impatient,"  he  re 
marked  as  casually  as  if  Laurens  had  been  a  friend 
for  whom  he  had  been  waiting.  "I  really  thought 
you  would  have  arrived  sooner." 

Laurens  stared  at  him.  "You — you  expected 
me!" 

" Absolutely.  I  was  certain  you  would  do  what 
you  did.  You  are  no  enigma,  my  friend,  and,  as  I 
have  before  intimated,  I  am  familiar  with  human 
nature.  Let  me  add  that  I  have  little  respect  for  it, 
as  being  guided  by  selfish  interest.  All  men  are  self 
ish;  I  am  selfish,  but,  unlike  you,  I  am  broad  enough 
to  recognize  the  fact  and  so  have  a  touchstone  to 
the  actions  of  others.  It  is  very  simple,  is  it  not? 
Come,  you  wish  to  ride?  You  shall." 

194 


HUMILIATION  195 

He  picked  up  the  dangling  speaking-tube  and 
spoke  a  few  words  in  Chinese.  The  limousine 
sprang  into  life  and  swept  out  of  the  court,  the 
standing  attendant  bowing  low. 

To  Laurens  the  turn  of  the  tables  had  been  com 
plete,  and  his  sudden  hope  so  quickly  dashed  that 
he  was  too  crushed  to  make  a  return  to  the  tyrant 
at  his  side  who,  with  affected  deference,  offered  him 
a  cigarette.  It  was  waved  away.  For  one  moment 
the  young  man  thought  of  the  desperate  expedient 
of  throwing  himself  on  the  fat  villain  but  had  sense 
enough  to  know  that  he  was  too  nerveless  to  suc 
ceed  even  if  the  man  had  not  provided  against  attack. 
There  was  but  one  recourse  left:  When  the  limou 
sine  reached  the  highway  he  would  dash  open  the 
door  and  leap  out,  rislTmg  broken  bones;  he  would 
scream  or  otherwise  attract  attention,  and  so,  with 
out  wasting  words  on  the  unctuous  Chinaman,  he 
waited,  believing  that  he  would  not  have  to  wait 
long. 

Through  the  park  swept  the  elegant  vehicle; 
down  an  avenue  of  limes,  past  the  conservatory,  past 
a  trim  lawn  on  which  two  men  were  working,  past 
a  small  grove  of  eucalyptus  trees,  past  beds  of  roses, 
past  a  miniature  lake,  and  along  a  high,  dressed 
stone  wall,  draped  with  vines,  which  marked  the  con- 


196  THE  IVORY  BALL 

fines  of  a  magnificent  estate.  At  length  the  vehicle 
swept  toward  a  lodge  by  a  gateway  in  the  wall  at 
which  stood  another  Chinaman.  It  was  closed,  and 
instead  of  waiting  for  it  to  be  opened  the  machine 
turned  sharply  and  entered  an  intersecting  drive 
way,  the  attendant  at  the  gate  bowing  as  it  passed. 
A  moment  later  it  stopped  in  front  of  a  large,  low 
building  of  white  stone. 

At  once  the  door  was  thrown  open  by  another 
bowing  Chinaman  and  Chow  T'su  stepped  out.  Dur 
ing  the  ride  of  five  minutes  he  had  not  spoken  a 
word;  now  he  held  out  his  hand  and  invited  Laurens 
to  descend. 

More  like  a  child  than  an  adult  the  young  man 
obeyed  and  marked  that  the  limousine  had  halted 
before  what  was  plainly  a  garage.  He  had  been 
again  fooled  and  was  too  heartbroken  to  more  than 
look  around  hopelessly,  being  conscious  that  there 
were  several  Orientals  about  the  place.  There  was 
no  animosity  in  Chow  T'su's  attitude  as  he  took 
Laurens  by  the  arm  and  led  him  along  a  narrow, 
flower-bordered  path  at  the  end  of  which  rose  the 
white  walls  of  the  mansion.  As  if  in  the  grasp 
of  a  snake  the  young  man  jerked  his  arm  away. 
"Your  pleasure  comes  through  my  humiliation,  you 
villain!"  he  said. 


HUMILIATION  197 

"You  mean  you  do  not  relish  the  lesson  I  set 
myself  to  teach  you — that  of  humility — the  humility 
you  once  witnessed  in  me,"  was  the  return.  "I  trust 
that  before  you  are  ready  to  enter  your  impossible 
Christian  heaven  you  will  have  been  reformed  in  that 
respect.  And  you  are  not  analytical.  I  will  prove 
it.  You  found  your  door  open  and  your  guard 
absent?" 

"I  did.    I  now  know  why." 

"Admirable!  You  are  becoming  enlightened!  Of 
course  it  was  by  my  orders;  you  should  have  sus 
pected  that  at  once.  Were  I  in  your  place  I  would 
have  known." 

Laurens  bit  his  lip. 

"And  you  received  but  little  satisfaction  from  the 
telephone,  I  judge.  You  lost  time  in  finding  it, 
though  I  thought  I  made  it  sufficiently  conspicuous 
last  evening.  I  knew  you  would  go  to  it.  Again, 
selfish  human  nature!" 

Laurens  felt  like  a  school-boy  under  the  lash  of 
a  master's  tongue.  The  Chinaman  went  on:  "And 
you  had  a  short  conversation  with  my  secretary,  who 
could  see  you  plainly;  for  that  purpose  the  curtains 
were  drawn  back  and  the  window  left  open.  He 
will  enjoy  giving  me  the  details.  Allow  me  to  add 


198  THE  IVORY  BALL 

that  the  instrument  is  not  connected  with  a  station; 
it  is  for  domestic  use  only." 

He  spoke  in  a  voice  as  smooth,  silky  and  free 
from  anger  as  though  the  man  at  his  side  was  his 
best  friend,  but  Laurens  recognized  his  malicious  joy 
as  he  showed  how  the  play  had  been  staged  for  his 
discomfort  and  disappointment.  His  wrath  against 
the  Chinaman  was  almost  an  insane  passion;  he 
could  have  killed  him  without  the  least  compunc 
tion,  and  even  looked  around  for  some  weapon  of 
offense,  but  with  devilish  ingenuity  Chow  T'su 
seemed  to  read  his  thoughts. 

"Being  impossible  of  success,  were  I  you  I  would 
not  even  attempt  it,  sir,"  he  said,  without  in  the  least 
altering  his  colloquial  tone.  "Ours  is  a  war  of  wits; 
if  your  brains  get  the  better  of  mine  I  will  be  forced 
to  surrender.  I  have  used  no  violence  on  you  and 
your  desire  to  use  it  on  me  is  always  provided  for. 
Look  behind  you,  sir." 

Laurens  turned  his  head.  A  few  yards  in  his  rear, 
and  following,  were  the  two  stalwart  men  Chow 
T'su  had  summoned  to  his  side  once  before.  "Come, 
sir,"  said  the  Chinaman,  "let  us  return  to  your  apart 
ments." 

Laurens'  whole  soul  rose  in  revolt  against  going 
back  to  his  luxurious  hell.  He  stopped  and  faced  his 


HUMILIATION  199 

jailer.  "Chow  T'su,"  he  said,  trying  to  check  the 
tremor  in  his  voice,  "have  you  no  mercy?  Have 
you  not  punished  me  enough?  You  have  won.  I 
have  confessed  my  fault  and  apologized.  I  have 
had  my  lesson." 

"This  is  better!"  blandly  returned  the  Chinaman. 
"You  are  improving  under  my  guidance.  But  Con 
fucius  says:  'Some  study — some  correction — usually 
shows  the  need  of  more.'  Do  you  think  that  it  is  I 
who  cry  for  revenge?  You  know  me  but  little,  if 
you  do.  Your  curses  of  me  were  as  nothing.  But 
my  ancestors — appeal  to  them;  when  they  forgive 
and  send  a  sign  I  will  open  my  hand." 

"You  mean  to  press  me  to — to  the  end  you  men 
tioned?" 

"You  are  rapidly  becoming  prepared  for  it,"  was 
the  cryptic  answer.  "I  shall  endeavor  to  be  patient. 
Come!" 

"What  if  I  refuse  to  move  from  here?" 

"You  are  not  quite  a  fool,  I  trust.  You  would  not 
be  roughly  used  but  you  would  be  carried  to  where 
you  must  go.  And  consider  your  loss  of  dignity; 
consider  the  scene  before  my  servants !  A  China 
man  of  caste  would  never  confess  failure;  he  might 
fall  but  he  would  save  his  face  before  the  world. 
Death  is  not  disgrace !" 


200  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"I  shall  beg  no  more,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

There  was  nothing  for  Laurens  to  do  but  submit, 
and  submit  he  did.  Ten  minutes  later  he  was  alone 
in  his  hateful  prison.  He  threw  himself  on  the  bed 
in  the  depths  of  mingled  rage  and  despair. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
SEVEN  DAYS 

THAT  day  passed  as  did  the  next  and  the  next 
until  a  week  went  by,  and  no  one  came  near 
him  save  the  single  silent  attendant  who 
served  his  meals  and  glided  ghost-like  about  the 
rooms,  setting  them  in  order.  The  monotony  of  the 
hours  was  terrible  and  Laurens  knew  he  would  go 
mad  if  he  passed  them  in  introspection.  At  times 
the  awfulness  of  his  situation  came  upon  him  with 
overwhelming  force,  then  he  would  fall  into  a  dull 
apathy  as  his  mind  reacted  from  the  strain.  That 
he  was  always  guarded  he  was  perfectly  aware. 

He  suffered  no  lack  of  physical  comfort  but  men 
tally,  consciously  and  unconsciously,  he  was  ago 
nized.  To  save  his  sanity  he  would  seat  himself  at 
the  piano  and  play  for  hours,  and  he  was  no  mean 
performer  for  one  without  practice.  He  smoked 
innumerable  cigars,  drank  moderately,  but  began  to 
eat  less  and  sleep  less.  His  confinement  was  injur- 

201 


202  THE  IVORY  BALL 

ing  his  health,  and  he  knew  it.  He  read  the  English 
books  in  the  bookcase,  especially  a  translation  of 
Confucius,  and  its  correct  moral  teaching  and  cold 
philosophy  maddened  him  though  many  of  the  apho 
risms  burned  into  his  brain  and  remained  there.  He 
attempted  to  engage  in  conversation  with  his  silent 
servant,  but  the  man  would  not  second  his  efforts 
even  when  he  openly  tried  to  bribe  him  to  help  gain 
his  liberty  or  carry  a  note  to  Miss  Dalzell.  Was 
she  still  in  the  house?  He  did  not  know,  but  when 
the  terrible  stillness  grew  unbearable,  as  it  often  did, 
he  would  go  to  the  piano  and  play  to  her  hoping 
that  the  sound  would  reach  her  and  she  would  under 
stand.  At  all  events,  the  piano  was  occupation  for 
his  brain  and  hands  and  undoubtedly  it  saved  him 
from  madness  and  self-destruction. 

On  the  seventh  day  of  his  imprisonment  he  was 
improvising  at  the  instrument  when  on  turning  away 
from  it  he  found  Chow  T'su  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  room. 

"You  are  quite  a  genius!"  said  the  Chinaman, 
smiling  and  speaking  as  if  he  had  seen  him  only  the 
hour  before.  "And  you  are  a  trifle  thinner;  you  do 
not  look  as  well  as  you  did.  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
fail  physically  and  think  you  would  be  better  for  a 
little  relaxation." 


SEVEN  DAYS  203 

Laurens  glared  at  him. 

"I  would  not  have  your  few  remaining  days  made 
too  hard,"  continued  Chow  T'su.  "That  would  be 
poor  hospitality — even  as  poor  as  was  yours  to  me 
when  you  practically  ordered  me  to  die  in  the  desert. 
I  have  been  most  liberal  toward  you  but  will  offer 
to  place  you  under  further  obligations.  Would  you 
like  to  see  Miss  Dalzell?" 

Laurens  fairly  leaped  from  the  piano-stool.  "Is 
she  still  here?  Is  she  well?" 

"Absolutely  and  remarkably." 

"You  will  really  take  me  to  her?"  Laurens' 
eagerness  was  unconcealed. 

"I  congratulate  the  lady  on  the  warmth  of  her 
lover,"  responded  Chow  T'su,  with  a  slight  frown. 
"I  also  commiserate  her  as  she  will  never  know  your 
embrace.  However,  you  shall  dine  with  her." 

"Dine  with  her  and  speak  to  her?"  excitedly  asked 
Laurens. 

"With  restrictions,  yes.  But  you  will  say  no  word 
to  her  derogatory  to  me.  You  will  ask  for  no  ex 
planation  of  her  being  in  this  house,  nor  will  you 
even  remotely  hint  that  your  treatment  has  been  any 
thing  but  delightful.  In  short,  you  will  contradict 
me  in  nothing  I  say  in  her  presence.  You  will  give 
no  tongue  to  your  affection,  but,  as  for  that,  I  do 


204  THE  IVORY  BALL 

not  think  you  would  wish  to.  And  last,  you  will 
substantiate  any  statement  I  may  make.  If  you  fail 
in  these  conditions  it  will  be  at  Miss  Dalzell's  peril." 
The  Chinaman's  voice  had  taken  on  a  harsh  tone. 

"I  don't  think  I  understand,"  returned  Laurens. 

"But  you  agree?" 

"Are  you  preparing  some  fresh  humiliation  or  dis 
appointment?" 

"Humiliation  at  seeing  the  lady  you  love?  You 
astonish  me.  I  said  you  should  see  her,  dine  with 
her,  talk  with  her,  but  unless  you  agree  to  the  con 
ditions  the  offer  is  withdrawn,  and  if  you  break  them 
you  will  have  the  pleasant  reflection  of  having  made 
the  lady  suffer.  Are  you  agreeable?" 

"The  conditions  are  monstrous,  but  I  will  meet 
them.  I  must." 

"Confucius  says:  'One  must  bend  his  head  when 
the  eaves  are  low.'  I  will  take  your  honorable  word. 
But,  my  friend,  your  robe  has  grown  shabby.  I  shall 
return  you  your  own  clothing;  as  the  dinner  is  for 
this  evening  they  will  be  appropriate.  I  will  call 
for  you  promptly  at  six.  In  the  meantime  you  will 
probably  be  interested  to  reflect  on  the  stir  you  have 
made  in  the  world." 

He  took  from  his  voluminous  sleeve  a  folded 
newspaper  and  handing  it  to  Laurens,  bowed  himself 


SEVEN  DAYS  205 

from  the  room.  The  young  man  opened  the  journal 
at  once.  It  was  a  San  Francisco  daily  dated  the  day 
before  and  he  did  not  have  to  search  for  the  matter 
in  question,  the  broad  stripe  of  Chinese  ink  marking 
the  item. 

"Nothing  has  been  heard  from  John  Laurens,  formerly 
a  lieutenant  in  the  U.  S.  Navy,  and  Miss  Josephine 
Dalzell,  daughter  of  the  late  Colonel  Dalzell,  of  the  U.  S. 
Army,  who  eloped  a  week  ago.  They  were  last  seen 
at  Callamere's  exclusive  restaurant.  The  elope 
ment  is  clouded  in  mystery  as  it  is  understood  that 
the  two  had  known  each  other  for  but  a  few  days.  Mr. 
Laurens'  friend,  Professor  Woodstock,  now  at  the 
Palace  Hotel,  and  lately  returned  from  China,  scoffs  at 
the  idea  of  an  elopement.  He  maintains  that  on  the 
date  of  the  couple's  disappearance  Mr.  Laurens  was  out 
of  town.  He  knows  little  of  Miss  Dalzell  excepting  her 
name,  and  strongly  hints  at  some  foul  play  about  which 
he  will  say  nothing  at  present!" 

Laurens  laid  down  the  paper  and  his  tense  nerves 
relaxed,  for  he  saw  one  gleam  of  hope.  Woodstock 
was  suspicious  of  foul  play,  and  knowing  his  energy 
the  young  man  knew  he  would  leave  no  stone  un 
turned  in  order  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery. 

The  newspaper  and  his  hope  of  seeing  Josephine 
that  evening  put  life  into  him — a  life  he  had  not  felt 
for  days.  He  now  looked  at  conditions  under  a 
new  stimulus.  Suicide?  He?  Never!  Rather  he 


206  THE  IVORY  BALL 

would  waste  away  in  confinement,  dying  of  a  broken 
heart,  but  while  sane  he  would  not  lift  his  hand 
against  himself  for  the  satisfaction  of  Chow  T'su. 
He  lacked  the  Eastern  idea  of  "saving  his  face,"  and 
to  him  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  the  Chinaman 
wished  him  to  kill  himself  in  order  to  save  his  own, 
and  that  while  he  lived  he  had  the  fanatical  Celestial 
at  a  disadvantage. 

With  a  fillip  to  his  spirits  he  set  about  preparing 
for  the  evening,  determined  to  outwit  his  jailer.  At 
four  o'clock  his  clothing  came.  It  had  been  newly 
pressed,  his  linen  freshly  laundered  and  his  patent 
leather  shoes  cleaned.  By  signs  the  dumb  attendant 
offered  to  help  him  dress  but  Laurens  abruptly  dis 
missed  him  and  dressed  himself,  not  wishing  a  wit 
ness  to  his  actions.  At  five  o'clock  he  felt  civilized; 
he  was  ready.  At  six  Chow  T'su  appeared,  being 
robed  in  the  gorgeous  gown  of  his  rank,  and  with 
him  came  Mow-Sing,  bearing  the  white  wand  of  a 
majordomo.  The  boy  looked  very  serious  and  he 
would  not  allow  his  eyes  to  meet  those  of  his  old 
master. 

"You  are  quite  a  handsome  man  and  really  a 
credit  to  your  order,"  said  Chow  T'su,  looking  Lau 
rens  over  in  the  enigmatical  manner  of  the  Oriental. 
"Of  course  my  honorable  friend  will  remember  my 


SEVEN  DAYS  207 

instructions  to  him — I  mean  my  suggestions,  for  one 
does  not  instruct  a  guest,"  he  went  on.  "And  as 
we  will  appear  to  be  on  the  best  of  terms  he  will 
condescend  to  permit  himself  to  take  my  arm  as  we 
enter  Miss  Dalzell's  presence.  Do  you  agree?  A 
refusal  might  imperil  the  lady." 

"I  am  ready  to  follow  you,"  was  the  return. 

"And  obey?  Of  a  surety!  But  first,  before  we 
leave  this  room,  the  honorable  Laurens  will  give  me 
the  note  he  has  written  and  hoped  to  pass  to  his 
inamorata." 

The  Chinaman  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand.  Lau 
rens'  face  suddenly  flamed.  The  man  was  a  mind* 
reading  devil.  "How — how " 

"How  did  I  know?  I  did  not  know,  my  friend, 
but  I  do  now.  I  merely  surmised  that  you  would  at 
tempt  to  do  a  most  natural  thing.  Remember  my 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  The  note,  if  you 
please." 

Laurens  took  the  paper  from  his  immaculate  cuff 
and  threw  it  to  the  floor.  Mow-Sing  picked  it  up 
and  presented  it,  kneeling.  The  fat  Chinaman 
calmly  opened  it  and  read  aloud: 

"I  have  been  a  prisoner  since  the  night  we  came 
here,  made  so  by  the  devil  who  poses  to  you  as  my 
friend  but  who  wishes  my  death.  Believe  nothing  he 


208  THE  IVORY  BALL 

tells  you  of  me.  I  am  obliged  to  play  a  part  in  order 
to  protect  you.  When  possible  notify  the  police  or 
get  word  to  Professor  Paul  Woodstock  at  the  Palace 
Hotel." 

"So!"  said  the  Chinaman,  tearing  the  paper  into 
small  bits  and  scattering  them  on  the  floor.  "You 
choose  to  defy  me!" 

"I  have  the  right  of  self-defense,"  Laurens  re 
turned.  "Even  you  will  not  deny  that." 

"Sir,  your  act  was  constructive  disobedience.  You 
agreed  to  my  wishes.  See  how  your  honor  totters 
under  selfish  interest!  Come,  sir!  I  will  at  once 
free  Miss  Dalzell  and  sail  for  China  on  my  yacht — 
on  one  condition." 

"What  condition?" 

"That  you  show  your  unselfish  devotion  to  the 
lady  by  going  to  the  cabinet  and  mixing  yourself  a 
lethal  cocktail.  In  wine  I  will  drink  to  your  health 
— I  mean,  to  your  passage  over  the  Styx.  The  lady 
shall  never  know." 

If  for  a  moment  Laurens  thought  of  consenting — 
if  he  was  tempted  to  make  an  end  of  it  all — it  was 
not  because  of  any  heroic  sentiment  for  the  girl  but 
for  the  reason  that  he  became  suddenly  hopeless. 
Had  he  not  hated  the  purring  Chinaman  so  deeply 
he  might  have  fallen  during  his  temporary  weak- 


SEVEN  DAYS  209 

ness,  but  the  weakness  passed.  He  forced  a  laugh. 
"I  have  no  faith  in  your  word,"  he  returned.  "You 
have  acknowledged  your  own  selfishness  and  ad 
mitted  that  you  were  not  above  lying.  I  must  refuse 
to  give  you  satisfaction."  Chow  T'su  threw  out  his 
arms  in  a  gesture  of  disappointment.  "I  regret  your 
decision,  sir — as  you  will  regret  it,  later.  Come! 
we  will  now  go  to  the  lady."  He  led  the  way  from 
the  room,  Mow-Sing  behind  him. 

Past  the  kow-towing  guards  they  went,  up  the 
bronze-railed  marble  stairway  and  into  a  broad 
upper  hall  at  the  end  of  which  a  leaded  oriel  window 
splashed  the  bare  wall  with  a  confusion  of  rich 
colors  as  the  setting  sun  shot  through  its  stained 
glass.  Coming  to  a  door  Chow  T'su  stopped  and 
presented  his  arm,  giving  his  captive  a  significant 
glance.  Laurens  laid  his  hand  in  it;  Mow-Sing 
threw  open  the  door  and  the  trio  entered. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
MY  LADY'S  CHAMBER 

THE  apartment  was  large  and  entirely  different 
from  the  one  Laurens  had  just  left  in  that 
it  was  almost  entirely  furnished  in  Western 
style  and  had  but  few  Oriental  touches.  That  it  was 
a  part  of  a  magnificent  suite  was  evident  from  the 
many  doors  leading  from  it.  Though  not  yet  even 
ing  the  heavy  draperies  of  the  windows  were  already 
drawn  together  and  the  place  made  brilliant  by  elec 
tric  lights.  A  modern  table  elaborately  furnished 
with  glass  and  silver  was  set  at  one  side  of  the  room, 
and  opposite  was  a  deep  couch.  On  it  reclined  Miss 
Dalzell  dressed  in  Oriental  costume,  and  by  her  was 
a  Chinese  girl  waving  a  long-handled  fan.  The  lady 
might  have  been  a  Cleopatra  attended  by  a  slave, 
and  a  recollection  of  a  similar  picture  came  to  Lau 
rens'  mind  as  he  recognized  the  woman  he  loved. 

Dropping  the  Chinaman's   arm  he   stepped  for 
ward.    As  the  girl  saw  him  she  started  up  with  an 


MY  LADY'S  CHAMBER  211] 

exclamation  of  astonishment,  but  Chow  T'su  inter 
posed  before  she  could  speak. 

"This,  madam,  is  the  little  surprise  at  which  I 
hinted,"  he  said  unctuously,  as  he  bowed.  The  lady's 
face  flushed  as  she  half  rose,  and  for  an  instant 
Laurens  thought  she  would  cry  out;  but  she  did  not; 
she  merely  extended  her  hand.  He  took  it.  Her 
fingers  were  like  ice  and  he  was  tempted  to  raise 
them  to  his  lips  but  thought  of  Chow  T'su's  warning 
in  time.  That  she  was  unlike  her  own  self  came  as 
a  painful  shock  to  the  young  man,  though  to  him 
she  was  still  a  flower  of  beauty  which  was  in  no  way 
lessened  in  effectiveness  by  the  gorgeous  robe  she 
wore.  Her  hair  had  been  put  up  in  Chinese  fashion, 
but  even  that  hideous  style  seemed  to  be  becoming. 
But  there  was  little  to  assure  her  lover  of  her  pleas 
ure  in  seeing  him.  She  looked  at  him  with  an  air 
of  constraint. 

"Mr.  Laurens  is  welcome,"  she  said,  withdrawing 
her  hand  from  his  and  sinking  back  to  her  former 
position.  "He  has  been  very  long  in  coming." 

There  was  an  indifference  about  her  that  puzzled 
the  young  man,  in  the  face  of  what  he  had  looked 
for,  and  her  reference  to  him  in  the  third  person 
rather  stung  his  pride.  Chow  T'su  prevented  his 
making  a  return.  "I  have  prevailed  on  the  honor- 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

able  Laurens  to  do  his  duty,"  said  the  Chinaman. 
"I  found  him  in  a  luxurious  apartment — I  will  not 
say  whose.  He  admits  he  has  been  deficient  in  atten 
tion  to  his  old  friend,  and  at  my  earnest  desire  he 
has  come  to  see  her.  He  will  remain  my  guest  for  a 
few  days." 

"He  is  very  kind,  I  am  sure,"  was  the  perfunctory 
return. 

"Permit  me  to  add,"  said  the  smiling  Celestial, 
"that  Mr.  Laurens  and  I  are  no  longer  enemies.  We 
comprehend  each  other  perfectly,  and  he  has  apolo 
gized  and  made  amends  for  our  recent  misunder 
standing.  As  you  are  aware,  our  point  of  difference 
lay  in  the  possession  of  a  certain  ojimi,  or  ivory 
ball.  He  admits  my  right  to  it  and  has  given  it  to 
me  without  reservation." 

"Yes?"  returned  the  young  lady,  as  if  the  matter 
was  of  small  importance. 

Laurens  dared  not  give  the  lie  to  the  smooth  vil 
lain,  who  smiled  as  he  spoke.  He  could  not  allow 
his  passion  to  jeopardize  the  frail  girl  who,  for  all 
he  knew,  was  acting  a  part  under  compulsion.  "Miss 
Dalzell  has  been  ill?"  he  said,  finding  his  voice. 

"Very  ill,"  she  returned,  looking  fixedly  at  him. 

"So  ill,"  put  in  Chow  T'su,  "that  it  has  been 
thought  inadvisable  to  move  her  to  her  friend's,  who 


MY  LADY'S  CHAMBER  213 

is  content  to  have  her  remain  here  until  her  health 
is  fully  restored.  She  has  every  attention  and  is 
guarded  from  all  harm.  Come — it  is  late !  Permit 
me,  mademoiselle." 

He  approached  the  couch  and  offered  his  arm; 
the  girl's  pale  face  flushed  but  she  arose,  took  the 
proffered  arm  and  was  escorted  to  the  table,  walking 
like  one  to  whom  exertion  was  an  effort.  In  a  mo 
ment  they  were  seated. 

An  awkward  silence  followed  and  to  Laurens' 
surprise  it  was  Miss  Dalzell  who  finally  broke  it. 
"I — I  trust  you  will  enjoy  your  stay  in — in  Menlo 
Park,  Mr.  Laurens." 

The  name  caught  him.  At  last  he  could  locate 
himself.  "Thank  you,"  he  returned.  "I — I  expect 
to  have  the  time  of  my  life." 

"It  is  but  the  prelude  to  a  long  journey,  he  in 
forms  me,"  remarked  Chow  T'su,  as  the  dinner  was 
being  served. 

"Yes!"  returned  the  girl,  with  her  first  show  of 
interest.  "And  to  where?" 

"I — I  have  not  yet  settled  that  point,"  answered 
Laurens,  inwardly  cursing  his  grinning  host. 

"He  will  not  be  definite  even  with  such  a  good 
friend  as  I,"  said  the  Chinaman,  rubbing  his  fat 
hands  together. 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

"No?"  Then  with  a  palpable  effort  the  girl  con 
tinued:  "Is  this  not  a  strange  meeting  after  a 
stranger  parting!  What  a  turn  in  the  wheel  of  cir 
cumstance.  Once  our  friend  was  my  servant;  now 
I  am  indebted  to  him  for  everything — even  life." 

"And  happiness,  I  hope,"  interrupted  the  Ori 
ental,  his  grin  suddenly  vanishing.  "Such  changes 
are  not  uncommon,"  he  went  on.  "Once  Mr.  Lau- 
rens  was  arrogant;  once  he  assaulted  me,  mistakenly, 
as  he  admits;  now  he  is  my  honored  guest.  I  owe 
him  much." 

Laurens  made  no  return,  being  dumb  with  rage 
against  Chow  T'su  and  fearful  that  the  girl  would 
be  made  to  suffer  if  he  disobeyed  the  Chinaman's 
commands.  It  was  more  than  evident  that  he  had 
been  brought  into  the  presence  of  Miss  Dalzell  as 
much  for  the  purpose  of  making  him  suffer  as  for 
anything  he  could  determine.  It  was  simply  another 
mode  of  humiliating  him.  His  intention  of  explain 
ing  his  position  to  the  woman  whom  he  had  little 
doubt  was  a  captive  like  himself  had  been  frustrated 
by  his  own  blunder  in  unthinkingly  admitting  having 
written  a  note.  He  could  not  be  open,  but  it  might 
be  possible  to  convey  the  situation  to  the  unhappy 
Josephine,  if  she  were  bright  enough  to  understand, 
and  he  had  no  doubt  of  her  mental  acumen.  He 


MALADY'S  CHAMBER  215 

hoped  for  an  opportunity,  and  it  came  rather  sooner 
than  he  anticipated. 

The  courses  were  served  mostly  in  silence — a 
silence  Chow  T'su  did  not  seem  to  relish.  "We 
appear  to  be  rather  lacking  in  interesting  topics," 
he  finally  remarked.  The  girl  laughed  lightly  and 
Laurens  knew  it  was  a  forced  effort  for  it  was  evi 
dent  that  her  nerves  were  at  high  tension;  her  eyes 
had  grown  bright  and  there  was  again  a  trace  of 
color  on  her  usually  pale  cheeks.  "It  is  more  than 
strange,"  she  returned,  as  if  reverting  to  the  former 
conversation,  "that  one  is  often  deceived  by  appear 
ances  unless  one  is  forever  probing  for  its  cause. 
Mr.  Laurens,  for  instance,  hardly  realizes  the  nature 
and  extent  of  your  hospitality  to  me.  He  doubtless 
thinks " 

"Mademoiselle,  he  thinks  profoundly,"  inter 
rupted  Chow  T'su,  swinging  toward  her  as  if  in 
warning. 

Laurens  understood.  If  the  girl  had  told  him  the 
bald  facts  in  bald  language  they  could  not  have  been 
plainer.  It  was  his  chance.  In  his  turn  he  would 
explain  that  he  was  in  a  false  position.  "Indeed  our 
host  is  right,"  he  remarked  lightly.  "I  have  thought 
profoundly  and  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
appearances,  like  circumstantial  evidence,  are  not  to 


216  THE  IVORY  BALL 

be  relied  upon.  It  is  only  the  superficial  mind  that 
gives  snap  judgment.  For  instance,  to  be  personal, 
I  am  known  to  be  wealthy.  I  am  supposed  to  be 
free  and  independent,  and  to  those  ignorant  of  con 
ditions  I  am  perhaps  envied.  Let  me  assure  you 
that  the  facts  are  otherwise.  I  am  far  from  happy 
and  my  money  avails  me  little  in  the  face  of  bitter 
disappointment.  Even  the  lavishness  of  my  host's 
attentions  give  me  but  slight  relief.  It  may  be  a 
poor  compliment  to  him,  but  even  here  and  sur 
rounded  by  the  luxury  he  so  generously  furnishes  I 
have  to  admit  suffering  from  intolerable  ennui.  Is 
that  not  your  own  experience,  your  Highness?"  he 
asked  blandly,  turning  to  the  Chinaman.  "Have 
you  not  permitted  disappointment  to  alter  your  life 
and  affect  your  happiness?" 

"Yes,"  returned  the  mandarin,  darting  a  malig 
nant  look  at  his  smiling  guest.  "I  have  known  dis 
appointment,  but  I  rise  superior  to  it.  And  I  usually 
know  how  to  punish  those  who  cause  it." 

"I  am  not  so  fortunate,"  said  Miss  Dalzell. 
"Under  disappointment  one's  character  should 
strengthen,  but — but  you  must  remember  the  adage : 
'Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick.'  ' 

"I  would  draw  Mr.  Laurens'  attention  to  one  by 
the  great  Confucius,"  said  the  Chinaman,  mean- 


"Madam,"  broke  in  Chow  T'su,  "remember  that  you  have  been 
warned   ayainst  this   excitement" 


MY  LADY'S  CHAMBER  217 

inglv.     "It  is  to  the  effect  that  when  in  a  morass  one 

O    J 

should  keep  closely  to  the  path.  Disappointment  in 
itself  is  a  slight  thing.  It  is  the  result  that  smarts. 
And  one  often  brings  the  result  on  himself." 

"God  knows  it  smarts!"  returned  the  young  lady, 
speaking  with  sudden  animation.  "But  much  can 
be  saved  by  bravely  meeting  a  reverse.  That  is 
trite.  Mr.  Laurens,  once  you  saved  me,  and " 

"Mademoiselle,"  broke  in  Chow  T'su,  "remember 
that  you  have  been  warned  against  this — excite 
ment." 

The  girl  seemed  to  shrink  like  a  corrected  child. 
The  Chinaman  turned  to  speak  to  an  attendant,  and 
taking  advantage  of  the  moment  Laurens  laid  a 
finger  on  his  lip.  He  saw  that  she  understood,  and 
he  was  satisfied. 

Thereafter  the  dinner  progressed  without  the 
light  conversation  approaching  dangerous  ground, 
and  it  was  just  as  dessert  was  concluded  that  the 
door  opened  and  Mow-Sing  entered.  Going  up  to 
his  master  he  dropped  on  one  knee,  presented  a  roll 
of  paper  wrapped  in  silk,  and  spoke  a  few  words  in 
Chinese.  Chow  T'su  appeared  interested;  he  took: 
off  the  silk  and  flung  open  the  roll  which  Laurens 
could  see  was  covered  with  Chinese  characters.  As 
the  mandarin  read  he  noticed  him  catch  his  thick 


218  THE  IVORY  BALL 

under-lip  with  his  yellow  teeth,  but  whatever  it  was 
that  troubled  him  it  did  not  throw  him  off  his  poise. 

"So!"  he  said,  in  his  usual  calm  voice.  "It  is 
unfortunate  to  be  obliged  to  obtrude  business  at  such 
a  time,  but  it  may  interest  my  guests  to  know  that 
in  this  my  agent  informs  me  that  this  house,  which 
has  been  in  the  market,  was  contracted  for  and  sold 
yesterday.  It  is  still  more  unfortunate  that  I  must 
give  almost  immediate  possession." 

Was  this  part  *bf  a  stage  effect?  Laurens  won 
dered;  but  before  he  could  come  to  a  solution  of 
what  it  might  mean  Miss  Dalzell  started  from  her 
chair,  a  look  of  absolute  consternation  on  her  face. 
"Where  will  you  go?"  she  cried. 

"Mademoiselle,"  returned  Chow  T'su  softly. 
"You  know  my  plans." 

The  effect  of  his  words  amazed  the  young  man. 
Slowly  the  girl  got  to  her  feet  as  if  she  had  lost 
sight  of  her  surroundings  and  was  looking  at  a 
vision,  her  eyes  becoming  vacant.  Throwing  out  her 
arms  in  a  gesture  of  despair  she  moaned:  "Oh,  my 
God!"  and  pitched  to  the  floor. 

Laurens  jumped  to  lift  her,  his  heart  suddenly 
racing,  but  Chow  T'su  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "Not 
you,"  he  said. 

"Go  to  the  devil!"  shouted  the  young  man,  shak- 


MY  LADY'S  CHAMBER  219 

ing  him  off  and  carrying  the  lax  body  to  the  couch. 
The  Chinaman  clapped  his  hands  and  at  the  sound 
the  door  was  thrown  open  and  the  two  guards  ap 
peared.  The  Chinaman  spoke  rapidly  in  his  own 
language  and  without  warning  Laurens  was  seized 
and  carried  struggling  from  the  room.  Before  he 
could  regain  his  wits  he  found  himself  in  his  old 
apartment. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
AN  ULTIMATUM 

RAGE  is  not  the  proper  word  to  describe  Lau- 
rens'  state  of  mind,  but  gradually  he  gained 
a  measure  of  self-control  and  finally  noticed 
a  thing  he  had  not  marked  in  the  wildness  of  his  rav 
ing.  During  his  absence  someone  had  been  busy. 
The  lights  had  been  turned  on  and  the  black  rope 
he  had  seen  in  the  cabinet  was  now  suspended  from 
a  bar  in  the  skylight,  its  noose  dangling  a  few  feet 
above  the  chair  which  had  been  placed  beneath  it. 
It  was  a  gruesome  looking  thing,  but  its  sinister  sug 
gestion  changed  the  young  man's  thoughts  and  he 
almost  laughed  at  the  puerility  of  his  jailer.  Then 
he  became  alive  to  the  fact  that  the  curtains  con 
cealing  the  entrance  to  the  little  dining-room  had 
been  drawn  back  as  if  in  invitation  to  enter.  Curi 
osity  moving  him  he  went  in,  only  to  receive  a  shock 
as  he  discovered  a  coffin  on  trestles  where  the  table 
had  been,  and  that  it  was  to  act  as  a  table  was  shown 
by  the  way  its  end  was  spread  with  the  furnishings 

220 


AN  ULTIMATUM 

usual  to  his  meals.  The  coffin  was  empty,  its  head 
board  resting  against  it. 

Laurens  stared  at  the  thing  and  his  wrath  rose 
to  the  height  of  insanity.  With  a  wild  yell  he  ran 
to  it  and  kicked  it  from  its  supports.  No  one 
entered  at  the  sound  of  the  crash,  and  taking  out 
his  pocket  knife  he  slashed  the  somber  covering  into 
strips  and  scattered  them  around.  His  very  violence 
relieved  him,  but  his  despair  was  unfathomable,  the 
refinement  of  Chow  T'su's  cruelty  showing  his  deter 
mination.  He  had  gained  nothing  by  seeing  Joseph* 
ine,  unless  it  was  a  knowledge  of  the  location  of 
his  prison  and  the  fact  that  she  understood  his  sit 
uation.  He  had  been  beaten  at  all  points  that  were 
essential  and  there  was  but  one  end  in  sight.  He 
returned  to  the  main  room  and  sat  down  with  his 
back  to  the  dangling  noose,  trying  to  forget  it. 

But  he  could  not  forget  it;  the  thing  haunted  him 
and  he  suddenly  swung  around  and  faced  it  as 
though  it  were  a  serpent  against  which  he  must 
guard  himself.  He  tried  to  read  but  his  book  might 
as  well  have  been  upside  down.  He  flung  it  across 
the  room  and  settled  himself  t^  face  the  thing  he 
could  no  longer  ignore.  But  its  fascination  grew 
with  the  minutes.  He  spoke  to  it  as  to  a  sentient 
being  which  understood  and  which  forever  invited 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

him.  He  cursed  it,  then  pleaded  to  it,  then  spoke 
words  of  terror,  but  always  there  was  a  silent  appeal 
in  the  black  line,  a  horrid  suggestion  which  the  man 
was  in  no  condition  to  cast  aside.  He  no  longer 
laughed  at  it. 

Laurens  was  becoming  self-hypnotized.  Men 
tally  he  saw  himself  slowly  swinging  at  its  end,  a 
heavy  pendulum  marking  the  seconds  of  eternity. 
The  horror  of  it  seemed  to  attract  him.  Like  the 
altitude  fascination,  which  compels  some  men  to 
jump  from  high  places,  the  black  rope  drew  him  as 
a  magnet  draws  a  bit  of  steel. 

And  he  almost  succumbed  to  the  lure  of  his  mor 
bid  imagination.  Like  one  walking  in  his  sleep  he 
threw  off  his  coat  and  got  to  the  top  of  the  chair. 
He  even  placed  the  noose  about  his  neck  and  in  a 
moment  more  would  have  kicked  away  his  support 
had  there  not  come  to  him  two  visions;  one  of  the 
helpless  girl,  the  other  the  smiling  face  of  Chow 
T'su  as  he  looked  at  his  swinging  corpse. 

They  broke  the  spell.  With  a  sudden  horror  of 
what  he  was  about  to  do  Laurens  ripped  out  a 
saving  curse  at  his  own  weakness,  flung  the  noose 
from  his  neck,  and  with  his  knife  cut  the  rope  as 
far  up  as  he  could  reach;  then  jumping  to  the  floor 
he  grasped  the  chair,  rushed  into  the  adjoining 


223 

room,  and  with  his  late  support  as  a  club  he  made 
a  wreck  of  both  chair  and  coffin. 

That  done  he  suddenly  calmed;  his  energy  had 
spent  itself.  He  threw  himself  on  his  bed  and 
almost  instantly  fell  asleep  from  pure  nervous  ex 
haustion. 

Three  days  passed  and  no  one  came  but  his  old 
attendant  who  removed  the  debris  from  the  dining- 
room  as  if  splintered  coffins  and  broken  chairs  were 
matters  of  daily  occurrence.  But  on  the  fourth  day, 
when  he  was  walking  the  floor  for  exercise,  and 
smoking,  Chow  T'su  unexpectedly  appeared,  fol 
lowed  by  Mow-Sing  bearing  his  usual  badge  of 
office.  The  mandarin's  voice  was  hardly  as  bland  as 
usual;  there  was  a  slight  ring  of  irritation  in  it,  but 
his  manner  was  not  harsh. 

"I  would  have  your  attention,  sir,"  he  said,  as 
Laurens  continued  his  walk  without  appearing  to 
have  noticed  him. 

"Well,"  returned  the  young  man,  halting  and 
facing  the  Chinaman. 

"Sir,"  said  Chow  T'su,  "certain  of  those  inter 
ested  in  you  have  become  greatly  agitated  at  your 
unaccountable  absence  from  your  home  and  club  and 
have  been  taking  steps  to  find  you.  Your  friend 
Woodstock  has  coupled  your  disappearance  with  a 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

certain  ivory  ball  and  the  sudden  resignation  of  his 
servant,  and  he  has  called  upon  the  police  for  aid. 
Do  you  imagine,  my  friend,  that  you  may  have  hopes 
or  that  I  have  fears?  I  have  known  these  things 
for  several  days  and  said  nothing,  but  the  expected 
sale  of  this  house  has  put  a  climax  to  matters.  I 
trust  that  you  appreciate  my  openness." 

"What  hellish  scheme  are  you  concocting  now?" 
demanded  Laurens. 

"Your  language  is  more  clear  than  elegant!"  was 
the  return,  "and  to  equal  its  clearness  I  will  say  that 
you  have  six  more  days  to  meet  my  wishes.  I  see 
you  have  ignored  my  late  suggestion,"  he  went  on, 
glancing  at  the  shortened  rope  yet  hanging  from  the 
skylight.  "I  will  only  say  that  at  the  end  of  six  days 
I  shall  be  obliged  to  make  a  change  regarding  you, 
if  you  persist  in  existing." 

"You  mean  you  would  murder  me?" 

"No,"  was  the  reply  in  the  same  even  voice.  "I 
might  fairly  argue  that  the  command  on  the  out 
raged  Eye  of  God  does  not  apply  to  your  punish 
ment  for  cursing  my  sacred  ancestors,  but  I  prefer 
to  be  on  the  safe  side.  However,  your  final  dispo 
sition  will  be  effectual.  You  will  die.  I  will 
add " 

What  he  would  have  added  Laurens  did  not  then 


AN  ULTIMATUM 

learn  for  at  that  moment  Mow-Sing  stepped  in  front 
of  the  mandarin,  dropped  to  his  knees,  and  with  up 
turned  face  and  outstretched  hands  spoke  in  Chinese, 
the  sing-song  words  pouring  from  him  in  a  rapid 
stream. 

The  mandarin  appeared  to  be  wonder-struck  and 
as  he  listened  his  eyes  took  on  an  expression  Laurens 
had  never  seen.  With  a  sudden  exclamation  he 
strode  forward  and  struck  the  kneeling  boy  a  violent 
blow  on  the  side  of  the  head,  the  force  of  it  sending 
the  youth  into  the  wall  hangings  where  he  lay  half 
stunned.  Stooping  for  the  white  wand  of  office  the 
Chinaman  broke  it  into  pieces  and  flung  the  frag 
ments  at  his  prostrate  kinsman;  then  he  clapped  his 
hands.  Instantly  the  well-known  guards  appeared 
and  as  Chow  T'su  thundered  something  in  his  own 
language  the  fellows  picked  Mow-Sing  from  the 
floor  and  carried  him  from  the  room.  Not  a  word 
did  the  outraged  boy  utter;  not  a  whimper  came 
from  him  though  blood  was  freely  flowing  from  a 
cut  in  his  temple. 

"You  are  a  coward  as  well  as  a  brute!"  exclaimed 
Laurens,  as  the  door  closed. 

"Sir,"  said  the  Chinaman,  his  voice  now  trembling 
with  anger,  "he  had  the  temerity  to  plead  for  you, 
as  if  my  will  was  to  be  questioned." 


£28  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"God  bless  him  for  it !  I  have  been  doing  him  the 
injustice  of  thinking  him  one  of  your  familiars,"  re 
turned  the  young  man. 

"He  knew  the  probable  cost  of  his  daring,  sir. 
Everyone  does,  who  knows  me.  Even  you,  stubborn 
as  you  are,  will  finally  bend  low  before  me." 

"I  have  more  respect  for  the  Miltonic  Satan  than 
for  you,  you  swine!"  was  the  defiant  rejoinder. 
"Bow  to  your  will !  By  heaven !  you  may  kill  me 
but  you  will  never  force  me  to  that." 

The  Chinaman  looked  at  him,  his  heavy  face 
lowering,  then  without  another  word  he  turned 
abruptly  and  marched  out. 


CHAPTER  XX 
FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN 

IX  days  more  of  this  terrible  existence,  and 
then  the  end!"  thought  Laurens,  as  he  went 
on  pacing  the  floor.  "Some  change,  at  least, 
and  almost  any  will  be  welcome."  He  wondered 
what  would  become  of  Josephine,  and  if  she  was 
being  punished  because  he  carried  her  to  the  lounge; 
but  everything  pertaining  to  her  was  conjectural. 

Four  of  the  six  days  passed  without  the  slightest 
alteration  to  his  monotonous  life,  but  on  the  fifth 
day  things  began  to  happen.  A  gang  of  Chinese 
workmen  entered  the  room  and  commenced  dis 
mantling  it;  when  they  had  finished  nothing  was  left 
of  former  luxuries  of  the  apartments;  in  fact  little 
of  anything  was  left  save  the  bare,  undraped  walls 
scored  with  nail  holes,  a  single  chair,  the  bed, 
cleared  of  its  hangings,  a  box  of  cigars  and  a  bottle 
of  wine.  All  else  had  gone,  even  to  the  screens  that 
divided  the  rooms. 

227 


228  THE  IVORY  BALL 

The  great  change  was  a  relief  to  Laurens.  He 
had  grown  to  hate  everything  Chinese,  from  his  per 
secutor  to  the  least  article  of  Oriental  manufacture. 
Even  the  air  seemed  easier  to  breathe.  But  it  had 
become  a  barn  of  a  prison,  and  the  electricity  having 
been  cut  off  it  became  pitchy  dark  soon  after  sunset, 
the  only  remaining  gleam  being  that  from  a  fixed 
star  Laurens  could  see  through  the  open  skylight. 
It  was  no  star  of  hope  to  him.  That  he  was  about 
to  be  moved  or  murdered  he  was  sure,  and  either 
event  would  obliterate  Woodstock's  chance  of  trac 
ing  him.  Laurens'  idea  was  that  he  would  be  taken 
to  some  gloomy  hole  in  or  near  San  Francisco  where 
harsh  treatment  and  close  confinement  would  do  the 
work  he  refused  to  do. 

The  fateful  sixth  day  arrived  but  nothing  hap 
pened  until  evening  and  by  then  the  young  man  had 
become  hardened  to  his  fate  and  looked  at  it  as  a 
criminal  looks  at  his  coming  execution.  As  the  sky 
light  darkened  Chow  T'su  appeared  followed  by 
three  men,  one  bearing  a  lighted  lamp,  another  a 
large  cloak. 

"You  have  again  disappointed  me,"  said  the  man 
darin,  though  he  did  not  appear  angry.  "I  have  to 
inform  you.  that  the  time  has  come." 

"For  what?"  returned  Laurens,  bracing  himself 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  229 

and  determined  that  if  it  were  to  come  to  murder 
he  would  die  fighting. 

"For  your  removal,  sir.  You  need  not  take  a 
truculent  attitude ;  there  will  be  no  force  used  unless 
you  resist.  You  will  put  on  this  coat  and  accompany 


me." 


"To  be  murdered?" 

"By  no  means,  sir.  Had  I  contemplated  that  I 
could  have  accomplished  it  long  ago.  This  house 
is  emptied  of  its  furniture  and  is  no  longer  habitable. 
I  give  possession  to  its  new  owner  to-morrow,  but 
you  will  still  be  my  guest — and  in  more  comfortable 
quarters  than  are  these  at  present." 

Laurens  thought  rapidly.  He  had  never  known 
the  Chinaman  to  deliberately  break  his  word  though 
he  had  twisted  his  meaning.  Anyhow,  it  would  be 
useless  to  refuse  to  go;  he  knew  he  would  be  car 
ried  out  in  that  event.  "I  will  trust  to  your  remain 
ing  sense  of  honor,"  he  returned. 

"You  do  well,  I  think,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

He  spoke  to  the  cloak  bearer  who  immediately 
threw  the  garment  over  the  young  man's  shoulders, 
and  the  mandarin  took  him  by  the  arm.  Passing 
through  the  barren  hall  preceded  by  the  man  with 
the  lamp  they  traversed  the  passage  to  the  door 
opening  into  the  entrance  court  and  there  stood  the 


230  THE  IVORY  BALL 

same  limousine  he  had  entered  twice  before.  He 
made  no  resistance  as  he  was  led  to  the  machine. 
Chow  T'su  seated  himself  at  his  side,  two  of  the 
guards  sat  opposite,  and  the  third  took  his  place  by 
the  chauffeur;  the  curtains  were  pulled  down  and  the 
vehicle  sped  on  its  way. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  during  the  long  ride 
and  Laurens'  thoughts  were  uninterrupted.  He  tried 
to  figure  out  his  whereabouts,  but  the  curtains  pre 
vented  a  look  outside.  He  was  certain  of  only  one 
thing  and  that:  he  had  not  yet  reached  San  Fran 
cisco,  as  he  should  have  done  had  it  been  his  destina 
tion.  There  was  no  sound  of  traffic,  no  shuffling  of 
feet  on  sidewalks,  no  human  voices,  nothing,  indeed, 
but  the  very  occasional  honk  of  a  horn  indicating  a 
passing  automobile;  even  the  latter  finally  ceased. 
He  had  nerved  himself  for  one  wild  dash  when  the 
vehicle  reached  the  city,  but  of  a  city  there  was  not 
the  first  indication. 

The  road  at  last  changed  from  the  smooth  surface 
over  which  they  had  been  running;  the  machine  pro 
ceeded  more  slowly  and  occasionally  lurched  as  if 
on  a  country  highway,  then  it  labored  as  it  went 
through  loose  sand.  When  it  halted  it  had  been 
going  for  nearly  two  hours. 

Hardly  had  the  limousine  ceased  moving  when  the 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  231 

door  was  opened  by  a  waiting  Chinaman  who  bowed 
low  before  the  mandarin.  "Is  all  ready,  Captain?" 
asked  Chow  T'su,  in  English. 

"All  leddy,"  was  the  low-voiced  return.  A  few 
words  were  passed  in  Chinese  and  Laurens  was 
handed  out  with  almost  as  much  deference  as  had 
been  shown  to  his  tyrant.  He  looked  about  him  and 
saw  that  the  machine  had  halted  close  to  the  waters 
of  the  bay.  No  habitation  was  in  sight,  but  a  dull 
glow  to  the  east  showed  him  that  he  had  been  taken 
around  San  Francisco  by  a  back  road  and  that  he 
was  now  in  one  of  the  stretches  of  barren  sand  which 
skirt  the  shore.  The  moon,  lately  past  its  full,  was 
just  rising  like  a  ball  of  blood.  The  waters  of  the 
bay  looked  black  under  the  clear,  starlit  sky. 

Without  being  told  he  now  knew  why  he  had  been 
brought  to  the  place,  for  his  quick  eye  sighted  a  little 
pier  jutting  from  the  shore,  a  small  boat  swinging 
at  its  end,  and  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  it 
lay  a  large  schooner,  its  loosened  fore  and  main  sails 
jerking  in  the  brisk  wind.  In  an  instant  he  sensed 
the  situation.  He  was  being  taken  to  Chow  T'su's 
vessel,  of  which  he  had  heard  him  speak.  And  to 
what  end?  To  be  drowned?  The  Chinaman  seemed 
to  read  his  thoughts  as  readily  as  he  had  several 
times  before. 


232  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"Water  being  the  element  of  your  former  profes 
sion  you  love  it,  doubtless." 

Laurens  drew  in  deep  breaths  of  the  fresh  air  but 
made  no  answer. 

The  Chinaman  continued:  "It  is  the  one  means 
I  have  hitherto  been  unable  to  furnish  you.  Perhaps 
it  will  appeal  to  you.  A  single  plunge,  sir,  and  then 
the  oblivion  of  Nirvana." 

Still  no  answer. 

"The  honorable  Laurens  remains  silent.  Is  he 
considering  the  suggestion?  I  will  escort  him  aboard 
my  yacht,  which  will  be  his  home  for  a  time.  I  wel 
come  him,  but  I  trust  he  will  not  wear  out  his  wel 
come.  Come." 

Laurens  glanced  across  the  wide  waste  of  sand. 
Could  he  possibly  escape  by  running?  The  idea  was 
given  up  as  soon  as  formulated;  he  was  weak  and 
there  were  now  five  stalwart  men  close  at  hand.  He 
had  never  seen  one  unguarded  avenue  of  escape  and 
he  saw  none  now.  There  was  no  help  for  him,  and 
it  were  as  useless  to  beg  or  cry  out  as  it  would  be 
to  resist.  He  followed  the  mandarin  down  the  pier 
and  into  the  waiting  boat  in  which  there  were  two 
coolies  at  the  oars.  As  he  took  his  place  astern  he 
saw  his  late  guards  enter  the  limousine  and  watched 
the  machine  melt  away  into  the  shadow. 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  233 

When  later  the  boat  swept  under  the  stern  of  the 
schooner  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  name  in  gilt 
letters,  the  level  moonbeams  bringing  it  out.  The 
''''Royal  Consort"  he  read.  And  to  him,  familiar 
with  things  of  the  sea,  it  seemed  a  fitting  title.  The 
vessel's  bends  were  clean  and  graceful;  in  her  lines 
she  looked  like  a  racer  and  her  length  fitted  the 
height  of  her  towering  bright-wood  spars.  Her  sails 
showed  like  snow  in  the  uncertain  light,  and  her 
brass  rail  glistened. 

When  Laurens  boarded  the  schooner  by  a  set  of 
mahogany  steps  he  found  a  coolie  crew  drawn  up 
to  receive  the  master,  and  his  first  sight  of  the  deck 
confirmed  his  impression  of  the  elegance  of  the  craft. 
He  had  heard  of  palatial  yachts  in  San  Francisco 
Bay — yachts  owned  by  Chinese  nabobs  and  manned 
by  coolie  crews,  but  he  had  never  before  seen  one 
and  had  not  credited  the  report.  He  knew  it  now, 
and  felt  that  he  was  to  know  it  to  his  sorrow. 

Every  man  bowed  low  as  Chow  T'su  stepped  to 
the  flawless  deck.  The  mandarin  waved  his  hand, 
the  captain  spoke  a  word  in  Chinese  and  the  as 
sembled  crew  dispersed.  Chow  T'su  turned  to 
Laurens. 

"This  is  my  captain,  sir,"  he  said,  indicating  the 
officer.  "Captain  Foo-Was,  this  is  the  honorable 


234  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Laurens,  who  is  to  have  our  especial  care  and 
respect." 

The  captain  did  not  smile,  but  he  bowed  without 
speaking,  giving  the  young  man  a  glance  that  was 
anything  but  friendly,  and  went  off  to  his  duty. 
Chow  T'su  stood  seriously  contemplating  the  silent 
young  man.  "Sir,"  he  said  at  last,  "take  your  final 
look  at  your  native  land.  You  will  never  see  it 
again.  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  for  a  man  of  sense  you 
have  less  consideration  for  others — you  are  more  in 
tensely  selfish  than  any  one  I  ever  knew.  Again 
you  are  going  to  deprive  me  of  my  own  quarters 
which,  as  my  guest,  I  must  insist  on  your  occupying. 
Come,  I  will  pay  you  the  honors  of  my  yacht." 

Laurens  bowed  helplessly  and  hopelessly.  They 
passed  down  the  broad  companionway  and  into  a  sa 
loon  where  a  table  was  being  set.  Turning  from  it 
his  guide  threw  open  a  mahogany  door  and  bowed  as 
he  waved  his  fat  hand.  "Here  are  your  quarters, 
sir." 

There  was  no  gainsaying  the  fact  that  the  room 
into  which  the  young  man  entered  was  elegant.  It 
was  in  the  stern  and  extended  the  full  width  of  the 
vessel,  and  though  it  was  comparatively  small  its 
fittings  were  as  luxurious  as  had  been  the  apartment 
he  had  just  left,  and  his  rapid  glance  took  in  some 


FROM  LTHE  FRYING-PAN  235 

familiar  features,  the  chief  one  being  the  cabinet  of 
poisons  which  was  set  against  the  case  of  the  rudder- 
post  which  came  through  the  deck  above.  The  side 
board,  or  buffet,  was  missing,  but  in  its  place  was  a 
large  wine-locker,  its  contents  displayed  through 
heavy  glass  doors. 

"I  will  leave  you  to  compose  yourself  and  prepare 
for  supper,"  said  the  Chinaman.  "We  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  each  other's  company  on  this  occa 
sion."  And  with  that  he  bowed  himself  out  with 
mock  deference.  Laurens  noticed  that  he  did  not 
lock  the  door,  even  the  key  remaining  inside.  The 
fact  did  not  encourage  him;  he  was  now  more  iso 
lated  than  when  in  the  mansion,  so  far  as  outside 
communication  was  concerned. 

As  he  turned  from  looking  at  the  man  whom  he; 
hated  with  his  whole  soul  he  caught  sight  of  himself 
in  the  only  mirror  he  had  seen  for  two  weeks  and 
was  staggered  by  the  change  in  his  appearance.  The 
hair  on  his  temples  had  grown  gray,  and  his  face, 
which  he  always  kept  clean  shaven,  save  for  a  mus 
tache,  had  become  pale  from  confinement  and  he 
bore  a  haggard  expression  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
his  eyes  were  still  bright  and  indicated  an  active 
brain.  And  his  appearance  was  not  improved  by 
his  dress.  He  was  still  in  the  evening  suit  he  had 


236  THE  IVORY  BALL 

worn  since  his  dinner  with  Josephine  Dalzell,  and  it 
showed  the  deterioration  of  constant  wear,  while  his 
linen  was  far  from  immaculate.  That  he  had  weak 
ened  physically  was  plain  in  the  forward  droop  of 
his  broad  shoulders  and  the  general  laxity  of  his 
whole  figure. 

As  he  stood  taking  note  of  himself  he  heard  the 
running  of  felted  feet  on  the  deck  overhead,  a  few 
calls  in  Chinese,  the  creaking  of  pulleys  and  other 
familiar  sounds  of  a  vessel  getting  under  way;  then 
there  was  a  gentle  heeling  of  the  craft  as  she  fell  off 
the  wind.  The  Royal  Consort  had  started,  but  to 
where?  Laurens  fancied  the  point  to  be  in  South 
America,  or  at  least  somewhere  beyond  the  jurisdic 
tion  of  the  United  States,  but  it  seemed  to  make 
little  difference  to  him;  he  felt  that  he  would  never 
be  allowed  to  leave  the  schooner  alive,  save  to 
plunge  overboard,  and  yet,  deep  within  him,  was  the 
spirit  of  the  old  adage:  "While  there  is  life  there 
is  hope." 

He  was  very  tired.  He  lay  down  on  the  brass  bed 
hung  with  a  silk  valance  and  bolted  to  the  deck,  and 
it  was  there  that  Chow  T'su  found  him  when  he  re 
turned  to  take  him  to  supper. 

The  fittings  of  the  saloon  were  in  keeping  with 
the  general  elegance  of  the  schooner,  and  they  were 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  237 

i 
in  excellent  taste.  Under  a  stained  glass  skylight  pro 

tected  by  bars  to  prevent  damage  by  anything  fall 
ing  from  aloft  was  a  large  mahogany  table  above 
which  hung  a  bronze  lamp.  The  table  was  set  for 
but  two,  and  as  Laurens  mechanically  took  the  place 
indicated  to  him  he  was  astonished  to  see  that  the 
single  attendant  was  Mow-Sing.  The  youth  had 
been  stripped  of  his  former  regalia,  having  been 
degraded  from  the  office  of  majordomo  to  that  of 
a  cabin  boy,  and  his  face  might  have  been  made  of 
wood,  for  all  expression  of  recognition  of  his  former 
master.  Laurens  noticed  that  on  his  temple  was  a 
half-healed  wound. 

Supper  was  eaten  in  the  usual  silence  and  it  was 
not  until  wine  and  cigars  were  served  that  Chow 
T'su  spoke:  "I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  express 
your  curiosity  regarding  this,  your  last  move,"  he 
said,  lighting  his  cigar  from  the  match  held  to  it  by 
Mow-Sing,  who  took  station  immediately  behind 
his  chair  and  stood  like  a  statue. 

"You  would  have  waited  for  that  as  you  will  wait 
for  another  thing,"  returned  the  young  man.  "How 
ever,  all  things  are  possible.  I  will  admit  my  curi 
osity  now." 

"Then  I  will  explain.  I  had  only  been  waiting  to 
sell  my  house  before  leaving  your  detestable  country 


238  THE  IVORY  BALL 

for  Chili.  My  yacht  has  been  in  readiness  for  some 
time.  When  I  learned  from  my  young  relative  that 
you  were  alive  and  possessed  the  Eye  of  God  my 
plans  changed.  I  obtained  the  ojimi,  but  to  my  sur 
prise  and  disgust  you  would  not  relieve  me  by  oblit 
erating  yourself.  Mark  how  frank  I  am.  Shortly 
before  the  sale  of  my  house  I  became  aware  of  the 
-  activity  of  your  friend  Woodstock  and  freely  con 
fess  that  he  worried  me.  Sir,  had  you  been  rescued 
I  would  have  done  that  to  myself  which  you  are  too 
cowardly  to  do  to  yourself.  I  would  have  saved  my 
face.  Let  that  pass. 

"A  few  days  ago  I  learned  that  through  the 
treachery  of  someone  who  had  been  trusted  with  a 
knowledge  of  my  affairs  part  of  my  plan  to  lead 
Woodstock  astray  had  failed.  The  detectives  had 
not  gone  to  Portland  on  the  wild  goose  chase  I  had 
arranged  for  them,  and  in  some  manner  it  had  been 
intimated  that  you  were  being  held  in  a  house  in 
Menlo  Park.  This  quickened  my  pace.  I  broke  up 
at  once,  leaving  my  secretary  to  settle  small  affairs, 
he  to  join  me  by  steamer.  Unfortunately  my  hurry 
obliges  me  to  leave  shorthanded  as  to  crew;  my 
captain,  Foo-Was,  having  no  mate." 

"Yes!"  returned  Laurens,  with  assumed  indiffer 
ence.  "And  what  is  your  present  destination?" 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  239 

"We  go  to  China,  sir.  The  ban  which  has  long 
kept  me  from  my  country  has  been  removed.  As  a 
naval  man  you  probably  recognize  that  we  are 
already  under  way." 

"I  am  aware  of  it.  May  I  suppose  that  Miss  Dal- 
zell  has  been  set  free?" 

"You  may  suppose  as  you  please,"  was  the  slow 
return.  "I  regret  that  her  illness  prevents  her  join 
ing  us  at  supper." 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  Laurens,  half  rising.  "Is 
she  aboard  this  schooner?  Are  you  taking  her  to 
China?" 

The  mandarin  bowed  and  puffed  his  cigar. 

"But  she  is  no  longer  a  menace  to  your  safety, 
you  devil !  You  once  gave  that  as  your  reason  for 
holding  her!" 

"You  are  deeply  interested,  are  you  not?"  re 
turned  the  mandarin,  unmoved  by  the  young  man's 
excitement.  "Are  you  willing  to  admit  that  you  love 
the  lady?" 

"I  admit  it.    You  know  it." 

"I  do,"  was  the  reply.  "But  the  honorable  Lau 
rens  thinks  only  of  himself,  as  is  usual;  he  should 
think  of  me.  He  says  he  loves  her.  He  has  known 
the  lady  in  question,  actually  known  her,  for  abouc 
two  weeks,  if  my  memory  serves  me.  That  is  a  mere 


240  THE  IVORY  BALL 

acquaintance.  I  have  known  her  for  nearly  ten 
years.  I  have  seen  her  grow  from  what  you  call  a 
bread-and-butter  Miss  to  a  woman — a  woman  fit 
even  for  me." 

"God  in  heaven!  And  you  are  taking  her  away 
for  your  own  purposes?" 

"Sir,  I  am  a  man,"  was  the  short  reply. 

"You  are  a  dog,  and " 

"Be  careful,  sir.  You  are  being  watched  from 
the  deck."  For  Laurens  had  left  his  chair  and  stood 
in  a  threatening  attitude.  He  glanced  up.  A  Chi 
nese  head  showed  from  behind  a  wing  of  the  lifted 
skylight.  He  dropped  back  into  his  chair,  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands  and  groaned.  The  mandarin 
smiled.  "It  is  fitting  that  I  now  lay  all  my  cards 
face  up  on  the  table,"  he  continued.  "We  will  not 
refer  to  the  lady  again,  but  as  for  you,  sir,  this  is 
my  determination  after  mature  consideration.  I 
dare  not  risk  offending  my  great  ancestor's  spirit  by 
disobeying  his  edict,  but  if  you  are  still  alive  when 
we  reach  China — if  you  have  one  spark  of  hope  re 
maining — I  will  extinguish  it  by  delivering  you  over 
to  the  priests  of  the  temple  of  the  Eye  of  God.  All 
responsibility  will  then  be  upon  them,  but  your  end 
will  be  certain,  and,  let  me  add,  by  no  means  as 
pleasant  as  the  ones  you  have  hitherto  refused." 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  241 

Laurens  took  his  hands  from  his  face  and  looked 
in  horror  at  the  Chinaman.  He  was  about  to  break 
into  a  torrent  of  useless  vituperation  when  to  his 
astonishment  he  saw  Mow-Sing  lay  a  finger  on  his 
lip  and  shake  his  head.  The  unlooked-for  warning 
came  like  a  dash  of  cold  water  in  his  face.  "Let  me 
out  of  your  sight!"  he  exclaimed.  "Let  me  go  to 
my  room!" 

"With  pleasure,  sir,"  returned  Chow  T'su,  rising 
and  drawing  back  the  young  man's  chair.  "You  are 
free  to  come  and  go  as  you  please.  You  are  free 
to  the  deck,  sir.  Hereafter  I  shall  have  the  pleasure 
of  calling  on  you  each  day,  each  time  hoping  you 
can  no  longer  greet  me.  I  bid  you  good-night." 

With  his  old  and  maddening  mock  deference  he 
escorted  Laurens  to  his  room,  bowed  profoundly, 
and  retired. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AN  INSPIRATION 

NEVER  had  Laurens  been  as  depressed  as  he 
was  the  following  morning.  Life  itself 
seemed  ebbing  strongly.  Chow  T'su  would 
win,  for  the  young  man  felt  that  he  never  could 
stand  the  long  voyage  by  sail  without  being  mentally 
exhausted.  And  if  he  survived  it  would  mean  final 
torture  at  the  hands  of  a  superstitious  priesthood  to 
whom  the  word  "mercy"  had  no  meaning.  There 
was  no  comfort  to  be  gathered  from  considering 
either  present  or  future,  but  Laurens  knew  one  thing, 
and  that  was,  he  would  kill  the  mandarin  somehow 
before  his  own  execution. 

Like  an  automaton  he  appeared  in  the  saloon 
when  the  gong  sounded  for  breakfast,  though  he 
hated  to  meet  his  enemy.  But  Chow  T'su  did  not 
appear  at  the  table,  though  Captain  Foo-Was  took 
his  place.  He  was  a  giant  of  a  Chinaman  with  the 
face  of  his  kind,  and  his  studied  ignoring  of  the 

242 


AN  INSPIRATION  243 

young  man  was  a  plain  insult.  He  did  not  even  look 
up  as  Laurens  took  his  seat,  but  though  he  paid  him 
no  attention  he  bedeviled  the  subservient  Mow-Sing 
in  Chinese,  the  flustered  boy  not  daring  to  answer. 

Nor  did  Mow-Sing  show  the  slightest  indication 
of  friendship  for  the  prisoner  whom  he  had 
warned  the  night  before.  Laurens  had  wondered 
what  he  could  have  meant  and  could  find  no  reason 
for  the  act;  neither  was  he  surprised  at  the  boy's 
present  attitude  toward  himself;  he  was  a  China 
man,  and  being  one  was  considering  only  his  own 
advantage. 

The  young  man  ate  little.  The  sight  of  the  big 
captain  guzzling  his  food  with  chop-sticks,  and  the 
repulsiveness  of  his  coarse  face,  disgusted  him,  and 
he  abruptly  left  the  table  and  went  on  deck,  no  move 
being  made  to  prevent  him. 

It  was  evident  that  the  breeze  with  which  the 
schooner  started  had  gone  down  in  the  night  for 
the  vessel  was  but  just  outside  the  Golden  Gate  when 
Laurens  went  out.  He  gazed  longingly  at  the  hills 
of  the  coast  already  blue,  and  though  he  was  aware 
that  no  hand  would  be  lifted  if  he  leaped  overboard 
there  was  an  impossible  stretch  of  water  between 
him  and  the  nearest  land.  The  dying  wind  had 
little  weight  and  the  great  sails  were  barely  filled. 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

The  sky  was  not  blue,  neither  was  it  cloudy,  and 
the  face  of  the  ocean  was  a  series  of  long  swells, 
their  surface  barely  rippled  by  the  sluggish  air.  To 
the  man's  experienced  eye  the  weather  had  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  coming  calm. 

His  first  sight  of  the  open  sea  did  not  move  him 
as  it  would  have  done  under  different  circumstances. 
The  horror  of  what  he  had  learned  the  night  before 
still  sat  on  him  like  a  nightmare,  and,  save  that  he 
was  innocent  of  all  wrong,  he  felt  like  a  condemned 
man  awaiting  execution.  It  was  no  longer  a  novel 
feeling  to  him.  He  was  in  the  profoundest  depths 
as  he  stood  holding  on  to  the  edge  of  the  cabin  house 
and  looking  over  the  vast  expanse  like  one  but  half 
awake. 

And  it  was  then,  when  there  was  no  ray  of  hope 
in  sight  and  when  death  had  become  a  familiar 
thought,  that  a  sudden  and  God-sent  idea  leaped 
into  his  brain — a  thought  that  might  be  his  salva 
tion;  and  it  was  based  upon  Chow  T'su's  lack  of 
faith  in  humanity — through  his  boasted  belief  in  the 
selfish  basis  of  all  human  motives.  Why  had  he  not 
thought  of  it  before,  he  wondered. 

But  the  method  might  not  bear  fruit;  it  might  be 
too  late,  and  there  was  a  tremendous  risk,  though 
if  it  proved  successful  he  could  at  least  save  the 


AN  INSPIRATION  245 

girl  from  outrage  at  the  hands  of  the  mandarin; 
it  might  even  be  possible  to  again  get  the  ivory  ball 
into  his  own  possession,  and  with  it,  through  the 
superstition  of  the  crew,  have  command  of  the  sit 
uation.  In  any  event,  his  scheme  would  bring  on 
an  immediate  settlement  between  himself  and  Chow 
T'su;  he  would  kill  the  mandarin  if  his  plan  failed, 
though  it  brought  him  death  at  the  hands  of  others. 
He  still  had  his  pocket-knife.  He  would  cut  the 
fellow's  fat  throat,  which  was  always  exposed. 
What  the  consequences  of  failure  would  mean  to  the 
girl  he  put  aside.  In  the  supreme  moment  even  she 
would  have  to  be  risked;  worse  than  death  faced  her, 
as  matters  stood. 

The  very  thought  of  having  a  chance  changed  him 
and  he  looked  around  like  one  waking  from  sleep. 
Forward  the  crew  was  lounging  around  in  the  true 
Chinese  fashion  of  doing  nothing  without  real  occa 
sion;  the  sea  heaved,  but  to  him  its  face  had  a  new 
expression ;  the  wind  was  rapidly  going  down  and  the 
sun  was  half  obscured.  A  raw-boned  Chinaman, 
really  the  boatswain,  stood  by  the  wheelman  acting 
as  first  officer,  and  though  Laurens  knew  he  had 
been  seen,  the  man,  like  the  captain^  ignored  him, 
doubtless  according  to  instructions.  The  spotless 
deck  stretched  unbroken  save  by  the  cabin-house 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

against  which  the  young  man  was  leaning,  the  masts 
and  the  galley  forward.  All  was  quiet  and  peace 
ful.  An  inbound  steamer  leaving  a  trail  of  smoke 
was  the  only  vessel  in  sight  but  it  was  too  far  away 
to  help  him;  and  no  one  on  its  deck  could  have  sur 
mised  that  the  beautiful  schooner  housed  a  coming 
tragedy. 

Braced  by  the  air  and  his  new  hope  Laurens 
straightened  himself,  and  then  it  came  to  him  that 
if  there  was  ever  a  case  in  which  playing  a  part 
was  necessary  that  case  was  his.  He  at  once  allowed 
his  shoulders  to  droop  again  and  dragged  himself 
over  to  the  starboard  shrouds  from  which  he  looked 
landward  as  if  in  the  deepest  dejection. 

And  it  was  well  that  he  did  for  a  moment  later 
Chow  T'su  and  the  captain  came  on  deck.  As  the 
relieved  boatswain  passed  the  mandarin  he  made  a 
deep  bow,  to  which  no  notice  was  taken;  the  captain 
stood  by  the  helmsman  and  looked  at  the  sagging 
sails,  and  Chow  T'su  made  his  leisurely  way  to 
where  Laurens  was  standing.  He  was  dressed  in 
a  nondescript,  semi-yachting  costume,  his  silk  shirt 
open  at  the  throat,  a  white  cap  on  his  head,  his 
queue  dangling  from  it.  Under  different  circum 
stances  Laurens  would  have  laughed  at  the  figure 
he  cut. 


AN  INSPIRATION  247 

"The  honorable  Laurens  is  not  looking  bright  this 
morning!"  said  the  mandarin  briskly,  sending  a 
glance  over  the  sea  and  offering  a  cigar. 

"You  are  discerning,"  was  the  spiritless  reply.  "I 
did  not  sleep  well  last  night." 

"Ah!     Some  deep  thinking?" 

"Some  very  deep  thinking,"  answered  Laurens, 
like  one  weary.  "May — may  I  see  Miss  Dalzell?" 

"On  no  account,"  was  the  prompt  and  decisive 
answer. 

"I  was  afraid  so.  How  long  will  the  voyage  be?" 
As  he  spoke  the  young  man  sank  down  on  a  coil  of 
rope  as  if  too  tired  to  stand. 

"For  an  eternity,  at  this  rate,"  was  the  cheerful 
answer.  "But,  really,  you  3o  not  contemplate 
finishing  it — after  what  I  told  you  last  night!" 

"Have  you  no  mercy  for  a  beaten  man?  I  have 
cried  peccavi." 

"Not  for  you — and  your  cry  is  of  no  avail.  You 
know  of  my  oath  to  my  ancestors.  It  cannot  be 
withdrawn.  Come!  Cast  yourself  over." 

Laurens  drooped  as  if  utterly  crushed,  then  rose 
to  his  feet  as  if  the  act  were  an  effort.  He  looked 
at  the  water  lapping  along  the  run,  as  though  he 
were  about  to  obey,  Chow  T'su  watching  him  like 
a  hawk.  "I — I  cannot  do  it — that  way,"  he  fal- 


248  THE  IVORY  BALL 

tered.  "I — I  cannot  stand  the  strain.  I — I  will  go 
below." 

"Do  so,  and  finish  your  thinking  to  some  purpose. 
I  will  call  on  you  shortly." 

Laurens  made  no  reply  as  he  fairly  staggered 
toward  the  companion  stairs,  but  his  heart  gave  a 
mighty  leap.  The  time  was  at  hand,  and  the  matter 
required  but  little  preparation.  He  cut  a  poor  figure 
in  his  disordered  dress,  and  like  an  aged  man  he 
felt  for  the  rail  and  went  down.  No  one  was  in  the 
saloon.  He  wondered  which  of  the  numerous  doors 
hid  Josephine,  and  was  tempted  to  try  one  or  two, 
but  it  was  a  needless  risk  and  he  had  none  too  much 
time  for  what  he  was  about  to  do. 

He  entered  his  own  room  and  locked  the  door. 
As  he  did  so  he  heard  dishes  rattling  and  knew  that 
Mow-Sing  had  returned  to  the  saloon. 

Then  Laurens  hurried,  his  weakened  heart  beat 
ing  like  a  trip-hammer.  Going  to  the  cabinet  he  took 
out  the  bottle  of  chloral  hydrate  and  into  a  wine 
glass  from  the  locker  he  poured  a  teaspoonful  of 
the  colorless  but  powerful  soporific.  This  glass  he 
replaced  on  its  rack  in  the  locker,  put  back  the  bottle 
and  closed  the  door  of  the  cabinet.  Then  he  went 
to  the  finely  appointed  desk  standing  under  the  star 
board  port,  and  folding  a  sheet  of  blank  paper 


AN  INSPIRATION  249 

placed  it  in  an  envelope  which  he  directed  to  "Chow 
T'su,  otherwise,  Fung-Wang,"  and  left  it  lying 
where  it  could  easily  be  seen. 

These  things  done  the  stage  was  set  and  ready 
for  the  chief  actor.  What  would  come  of  it?  God 
only  knew.  All  that  remained  was  to  put  on  an  air 
of  extreme  dejection  and  wait  for  the  curtain  to  rise. 
Seated  in  a  chair  with  his  head  in  his  hands  he  lis 
tened  for  Chow  T'su's  coming. 

He  had  not  been  in  his  assumed  position  for  two 
minutes  when  he  heard  a  rap  on  the  panel.  As  he 
called,  "Come  in"  in  a  feeble  voice  he  remembered 
that  he  had  locked  the  door.  Going  to  it  he  threw 
it  open,  but  instead  of  the  fat  mandarin  facing  him 
it  was  Mow-Sing.  He  slipped  noiselessly  into  the 
room  his  smooth  face  aglow  with  excitement. 

"You!"  exclaimed  Laurens. 

"Speakee  low  down,"  said  the  boy,  putting  a 
finger  to  his  lip.  "Him  killee  Mow  chop-chop  if 
sabe  Mow  here.  Me  play  hatee  you!  Me  likee 
kill  he!  See!"  He  pointed  to  the  scar  on  his 
temple. 

"Well— for  God's  sake " 

"Speakee  low  down.  You  one  time  savee  Mow- 
Sing;  me  savee  you — if  can  do." 


250  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"You  save  me!  You!  What  can  you  do?"  de 
manded  the  astonished  man. 

"Not  much — maybe.  Me  come  tell  you  captain- 
man,  Foo-Was,  belly  bad  felly.  You  watchee.  He 
tell  Chow  T'su  he  stickee  knife  in  you — if  say  so." 

"He  said  he  would  stab  me?" 

"Yeh-yeh.  Me  hear.  Chow  T'su  he  say  not  yet 
— byme  by — perhaps,  if  no  killee  sef." 

Laurens  understood  as  plainly  as  if  the  words 
were  in  the  most  elegant  English.  "So  the  captain 
would  kill  me !  Chow  T'su  says  he  is  going  to  give 
me  to  the  priests  of  the  temple,  and " 

"Me  know,"  interrupted  the  youth,  in  a  whisper 
as  he  glanced  apprehensively  at  the  closed  door. 
"He  no  dare  givee  to  pleasts.  He  tell  captain-man 
pleasts  take  away  ivly  ball  and  keep.  Chow  T'su 
no  wantee  lose.  Me  see  Flesser  Woodstock.  Me 


say 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  stood  staring  at  the 
door,  stiffened  by  terror.  For  as  he  spoke  his  last 
word  a  knock  sounded,  an  aggressive  knock,  and 
there  was  no  doubt  about  its  character. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
A  MATTER  OF  FAITH 

FOR  a  moment  both  were  paralyzed  by  the 
interruption,  but  it  was  the  boy  who  first 
recovered  and  took  action;  before  Laurens 
could  move  he  dropped  noiselessly  to  the  floor  and 
snaked  himself  under  the  bed,  the  hanging  valance 
protecting  him  from  sight.  As  he  disappeared  Lau 
rens  pulled  himself  together  and  going  to  the  door 
opened  it.  "Come  in,"  he  said,  and  Chow  T'su 
entered. 

There  was  now  no  counterfeit  emotion  on  the 
young  man's  face;  he  was  deathly  white  and  as  he 
backed  to  the  table  and  leaned  against  it  he  looked 
as  if  about  to  faint;  the  narrow  escape  of  being  dis 
covered  with  Mow-Sing  had  unnerved  him  for  the 
moment.  The  Chinaman  advanced  into  the  room, 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"Something  appears  to  be  on  your  honorable 
mind,"  he  remarkedj  as  he  looked  suspiciously 

251 


252  THE  IVORY  BALL 

around  the  apartment;  then,  seeing  the  open  desk 
he  walked  over  to  it  and  picked  up  the  envelope 
addressed  to  himself.  "For  me!"  he  said. 

Laurens  came  to  life  then.  "Sir,  that  is  for  you, 
but  I  am  not  quite  ready  to  deliver  it.  Do  not  open 
it— yet." 

"Not  open  it!" 

"You  will  respect  my  final  wish.  The  envelope 
contains  a  note — together  with  my  last  will." 

The  Chinaman  tossed  the  paper  to  the  desk  and 
his  face  lighted.  "You  have  come  to  a  determina 
tion,  perhaps." 

"I  have  come  to  a  determination — to  the  inevit 
able,"  returned  Laurens,  sinking  into  a  chair. 

"You  encourage  me,"  said  Chow  T'su,  seating 
himself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  looking  hard  at 
his  apparently  hopeless  victim. 

"You  may  take  it  that  way,"  was  the  return.  "I 
am  where,  after  all,  every  man  must  come,  you  with 
the  rest.  I  am  worn  down  past  resistence.  Will 
you  promise  to  give  the  enclosed  document  to  the 
United  States  consul  at  Amoy?  He  is  a  friend  of 
mine." 

"You  greatly  relieve  me,  sir!"  said  the  mandarin, 
rising  from  the  bed  and  taking  a  chair  on  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  table.  "If  the  document  you  refer 


A  MATTER  OF  FAITH 

to  carries  no  reflection  against  myself  I  shall  be 
happy  to  see  that  your  wish  is  carried  out.  Is  there 
anything  more  that  the  honorable  Laurens  desires?" 

"May  I  not  see  Miss  Dalzell  for  a  moment  be 
fore  I " 

"Not  for  an  instant.     Is  there  anything  else?" 

"Nothing,"  was  the  reply.  "I  am  broken.  I 
could  not  endure  the  torture  you  have  in  store.  It 
is  useless  to  struggle.  I  no  longer  hope.  I  am 
ready.  Now  is  as  good  a  time  as  any." 

"Your  wisdom  does  you  credit,  though  late  in  ar 
riving,  and  your  decision  is  more  than  welcome," 
responded  the  Chinaman;  and  there  was  nothing 
suspicious  in  his  manner. 

"Call  it  wisdom  or  weakness — it  does  not  mat 
ter,"  Laurens  returned.  For  a  moment  he  seemed 
to  fall  into  the  abstraction  of  mental  exhaustion  as 
he  stared  at  the  floor.  Presently  he  raised  his  head. 
"I  have  one  other  request:  You  will  bury  me  at  sea 
— with  proper  respect?" 

"Sir,"  replied  the  Chinaman,  looking  fixedly  at 
him.  "Once  you  held  the  sacred  relic  of  Confucius 
in  your  hand,  and  no  man  so  favored  shall  have  any 
thing  but  respect  from  me.  Have  I  not  shown  it? 
You  will  be  wrapped  in  silk,  Mr.  Laurens,  and  if 
I  had  a  copy  of  the  mummery  of  your  service  I 


254  THE  IVORY  BALL 

would  read  it  over  your  remains.  I  will  drink  to 
your  passage  into  Nirvana,  as  I  once  promised  to 
do.  Is  there  anything  else?" 

"You  will  drink  to  your  own  damned  success!" 
returned  Laurens.  "But  I  need  the  stimulus.  I 
accept  your  offer.  Express  to  the  unfortunate  lady 
in  your  power  that  my  greatest  regret  is  that  I  could 
not  save  her  from  a  colossal  brute." 

Chow  T'su  laughed.  "I  will  deliver  your  mes 
sage.  May  I  ask  your  method  of  crossing  the 
Styx?" 

"Potassium  Cyanide." 

"A  wise  choice.  It  is  quick,  cleanly  and  compara 
tively  painless.  It  will  not  distort  your  features. 
You  can  meet  your  ancestors  with  pride.  Will  you 
act  at  once?  I  will  remain  and  be  an  interested 
witness." 

Laurens  made  no  answer.  He  was  afraid  of  over 
playing  his  part.  If  it  failed  there  was  the  open 
knife  in  his  pocket,  though  it  were  a  poor  weapon 
against  the  pistol  he  was  sure  the  Chinaman  always 
carried.  He  got  to  his  feet  and  went  to  the  wine 
locker.  Hope  was  strong  within  him,  but  failure 
and  success  were  at  a  delicate  balance;  a  few  min 
utes  more  would  determine  which  scale  went  up. 
Knowing  that  the  Chinaman's  narrow  eyes  were  fol- 


A  MATTER  OF  FAITH  255 

lowing  his  every  movement  Laurens'  actions  were 
apparently  open.  Taking  a  clean  glass  from  the 
rack  he  stepped  to  the  poison  cabinet  and  poured  out 
enough  cyanide  of  potash  to  have  killed  ten  men. 
This  he  set  on  the  table. 

Returning  to  the  locker  he  opened  a  bottle  of 
port  and  filled  two  glasses,  one  being  that  which 
held  the  dose  of  chloral.  He  did  this  without  the 
least  attempt  at  concealment,  confident  that  from 
where  Chow  T'su  sat  he  could  not  see  the  colorless 
poison.  With  the  two  glasses  he  advanced  to  the 
table  and  set  the  harmless  wine  before  the  mandarin, 
retaining  the  drugged  potation  in  his  own  shaking 
hand!  There  was  no  pretended  weakness  now;  he 
felt  as  if  he  were  about  to  collapse.  The  final  act 
was  on. 

"Chow  T'su,"  he  said,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "I 
take  my  leave  of  you  and  place  my  technical  murder 
on  your  black  soul.  I  will  first  drink  with  you,  then 
will  submit  to  the  cyanide  which  will  relieve  us  both. 
I  shall  die  like  an  American."  He  lifted  his  glass. 
"I  drink  to  the  God  who  created  me,  to  the  memory 
of  my  mother,  to  the  girl  I  love.  Will  you  join  me? 
or  will  your  lack  of  faith — your  fear  that  your  wine 
is  poisoned — prevent  that  small  token  of  magna 
nimity?" 


256  THE  IVORY  BALL 

The  Chinaman  showed  his  teeth  in  a  sarcastic  grin 
and  shrugged  his  fat  shoulders  as  he  lifted  the  glass 
from  the  table  and  held  it  to  his  eye,  as  if  in  admi 
ration  of  its  color.  Then  he  brought  it  slowly  to 
his  lips.  Would  he  drink  and  ruin  all?  In  his  in 
tense  interest  Laurens  almost  forgot  the  part  he  was 
playing. 

But  Chow  T'su  did  not  drink.  He  slowly  re 
placed  the  glass  on  the  table  and  looked  at  the  young 
man.  "You  are  shrewd,  sir,"  he  said,  with  an  open 
sneer,  "shrewd,  with  the  shrewdness  of  your  kind, 
but  awkward,  coarse  and  without  true  finesse.  You 
evidently  think  I  am  an  infant  in  intellect,  though 
you  should  know  me  better  by  this  time,  and  that 
conception  of  me  amounts  almost  to  an  insult. 
Listen,  sir!  One  small  crystal  of  cyanide  of  potash, 
previously  dropped  into  this  glass,  would  allow  you 
to  triumph  over  me,  were  I  to  drink  it.  I  gave  you 
credit  for  more  imagination.  Your  plan  was  fairly 
laid,  had  I  been  a  fool,  but  you  did  not  count  on 
my  knowledge  of  human  nature.  I  read  your  pre 
tended  emotion,  your  counterfeit  weakness  and  ner 
vous  tension.  You  did  not  deceive  me  for  an  instant. 
This  wine  is  poisoned!  And  now,  sir,  I  am  ready 
to  drink  to  your  passage  to  your  heaven  or  your 
hell,  to  your  mother,  and  your  sweetheart  who  will 


A  MATTER  OF  FAITH  257 

remain  in  my  care,  as  well  as  to  the  God  you  have 
doubtless  called  upon  and  called  in  vain.  I  will 
drink,  as  promised,  but  it  shall  be  from  the  glass 
you  hold,  and  you  shall  drink  from  mine.  We  will 
exchange,  if  you  please."  He  got  to  his  feet  and 
held  out  his  hand,  a  malicious  grin  of  cunning  on 
his  face. 

Laurens'  heart  almost  stopped  as  he  recognized 
the  Providence  behind  him.  Hesitating  as  if  nerv 
ing  himself  he  passed  his  glass  to  the  Chinaman.  "It 
will  make  no  difference  in  the  end,"  he  said. 

Chow  T'su  smiled  more  broadly  as  he  took  the 
proffered  glass.  Laurens  lifted  the  other  from  the 
table.  The  two  formally  touched  rims. 

"Suspicion  is  the  guardian  of  individuals  as  well 
as  nations,"  the  Chinaman  remarked.  "It  is  another 
name  for  that  eternal  vigilance  so  often  quoted.  I 
will  myself  prepare  your  next  dose,  if  this  fails.  I 
wish  you  a  pleasant  journey.  Will  you  drink?" 

"After  you." 

"Together,  then." 

Both  bowed  and  drank.  Laurens  staggered  back 
and  fell  into  the  chair  he  had  lately  left.  There 
was  no  deception  in  his  weakness;  his  wondrous 
exaltation  made  him  dizzy.  He  closed  his  eyes  and 
shuddered,  as  though  the  draft  was  already  work- 


258  THE  IVORY  BALL 

ing  on  him.    The  Chinaman  stood  immovable  by  the 
table,  his  teeth  still  showing  in  a  sardonic  smile. 

The  seconds  seemed  like  minutes  to  the  young 
man  as  he  pretended  to  feel  the  effect  of  the  poison 
the  symptoms  of  which  he  was  not  familiar  with,  and 
during  the  time  the  unsuspicious  devil  looked  down 
on  him  without  stirring.  But  presently,  through  his 
half-closed  eyes  the  writhing  victim  saw  Chow  T'su 
pass  his  hand  over  his  shaven  forehead,  as  if  puz 
zled.  A  second  or  two  later  he  probably  compre 
hended  that  something  was  wrong  with  him,  for  he 
uttered  a  Chinese  exclamation  and  started  for  the 
door,  an  unmistakable  change  already  on  his  fat 
face.  But  he  did  not  reach  it.  His  time  had  come 
— and  so  had  Laurens'. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
SUCCESS 

BEFORE  the  mandarin  was  more  than  half  way 
across  the  room  the  young  man  had  leaped 
from  his  chair  and  was  upon  him.  Chow 
T'su  opened  his  eyes  with  a  snap  and  from  them 
shot  a  gleam  of  sudden  intelligence;  he  evidently 
saw  the  trap  into  which  he  had  fallen,  but  saw  it 
too  late.  He  made  an  effort  to  shout  but  Laurens 
clapped  a  hand  over  his  thick  mouth  and  forced  him 
to  the  cushioned  locker,  it  being  now  an  easy  matter 
to  handle  the  fast-dazing  man.  Holding  the  China 
man  down  he  undammed  the  flood  of  his  hate. 

"Now,  by  the  glory  of  your  Confucius,  you  are 
done  for!"  he  cried,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "Your 
cursed  suspicion,  your  eternal  vigilance,  your  false 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  have  been  your  ruin! 
Pull  yourself  together  and  listen  to  me,  you  viper! 
The  wine  I  offered  you  was  harmless;  that  which  I 
held  was  dosed  with  chloral!  I  banked  on  your 
unfaith.  You  insisted  on  the  exchange,  as  I  hoped 
you  would.  You  will  soon  be  unconscious  and  at 

259 


260  THE  IVORY  BALL 

my  mercy.  Wake  up  and  hear  me  out!  Don't  go 

off  yet.  Wake  up  and Not  on  your  life!"  he 

cried,  as  the  Chinaman  tried  to  reach  a  pocket. 
"You  are  helpless,  you  damned  snake !" 

Laurens  knew  the  man  heard  and  comprehended, 
and  it  gave  him  an  unholy  satisfaction.  He  knew, 
too,  what  Chow  T'su  was  after,  but  before  he  could 
get  his  hand  on  the  automatic  pistol  the  young  man 
had  gained  possession  of  it,  the  mandarin  being 
powerless  to  resist.  Laurens  shook  him  fiercely  in 
order  to  keep  him  awake  a  moment  longer  while 
he  poured  venom  into  his  deafening  ear.  But  it  was 
useless;  the  fat  figure  relaxed,  the  head  fell  for 
ward,  and  as  the  young  man  stepped  back  to  look 
at  him  Chow  T'su  fell  sidewise  and  slipped  to  the 
floor. 

Up  to  then  the  American  had  been  in  a  frenzy 
of  excitement  and  his  late  weakness  seemed  to  turn 
to  strength,  but  with  the  complete  collapse  of  his 
enemy  he  suddenly  calmed.  Stooping  over  the  fallen 
body  he  hurriedly  went  through  the  man's  clothing, 
hoping  to  find  the  ivory  ball,  as  with  it  in  his  posses 
sion  he  might  strengthen  his  position,  but  the  ball 
was  not  on  his  person.  As  he  rose  from  his  search 
he  saw  Mow-Sing  on  his  knees  beside  him.  "What 
you  do?"  asked  the  boy,  his  oblique  eyes  wide. 


SUCCESS  261 

"I  poisoned  the  villain.  He  cannot  harm  us  now," 
panted  Laurens. 

"Himgodaid?" 

"I  don't  know,  nor  care.  Are  you  going  to  stand 
by  me,  Mow-Sing?"  As  he  spoke  he  took  out  the 
automatic. 

Instead  of  at  once  answering  the  boy  crept  to 
the  prostrate  Chinaman  and  looked  closely  into  the 
unconscious  face,  then  he  got  to  his  feet  and  gave 
the  body  a  vicious  kick.  "Him  no  daid.  Me  killee, 
if  say  so." 

"No.  He's  safe  enough.  I  want  no  killing. 
What  will  you  do?" 

"Me  hatee  him,"  responded  the  boy,  with  a 
half  sob.  "Me  do  anything  for  you."  And  he  fell 
on  his  knees.  "What  you  makee  next?" 

The  question  brought  Laurens  to  a  full  sense  of 
his  situation.  "I  don't  know  what  to  do."  And 
it  was  the  truth.  His  plan  had  been  carried  out, 
but  he  had  not  thought  of  what  lay  beyond  his  imme 
diate  success.  The  boy  arose  to  his  feet. 

"You  waitee,"  he  said,  his  mouth  close  to  Laurens5 
ear,  his  earnest  face  working. 

"Me  sendee  word  Flesser  Woodstock.  He  come. 
Sabe?" 

"No.     I  don't  understand." 


262  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"Me  sendee  word  Flesser  Woodstock.  He  come. 
He  come  with  big  boat,  maybe.  Allee  same  tell  him 
'bout  big  house." 

Laurens'  eyes  widened.  "You  mean  that  you  sent 
word  to  Woodstock  that  I  was  a  prisoner  and  was 
being  taken  away  on  this  schooner?" 

The  boy  nodded  violently.    "Yeh." 

"You  turned  against  that  devil!     When?" 

"One — two  day.  Told  'bout  house — told  'bout 
ship.  Me  write  letter,  like  you  show  me.  Chow 
T'su,  him  hit  Mow-Sing.  Makee  mad."  He 
pointed  to  the  Chinaman's  body  that  was  rolling 
back  and  forth  with  the  heave  of  the  vessel. 

Laurens  caught  the  boy's  meaning  and  thanked 
God  for  his  having  versed  the  youth  in  the  rudi 
ments  of  writing;  he  also  thanked  heaven  that  Chow 
T'su  had  struck  the  blow  which  lost  him  a  hench 
man.  "God  bless  you,  Mow!"  he  said,  laying  a 
hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "If  ever  we  get  out  of 
this  I'll  make  your  fortune." 

Mow-Sing  caught  the  hand  and  kissed  it.  "If 
Flesser  no  come  we  no  get  out.  If  captain-man 
catchee  Chow  T'su  daid,  he  killee  you — he  killee 
me.  Him  bad  man!" 

Laurens  understood.  He  had  rid  himself  of  the 
chief,  but  the  captain  was  as  great,  if  not  a  greater 


SUCCESS  263 

menace,  in  that  he  was  ready  to  murder  him  at  any 
time.  Should  Foo-Was  discover  what  had  happened 
in  the  cabin  matters  would  rapidly  reach  a  head,  and 
he  would  certainly  become  suspicious  if  the  manda 
rin  was  missing  for  long;  he  would  be  searched 
for,  and  when  found,  as  he  would  be,  there  would 
come  another  tragedy,  and  one  tinged  with  blood. 

Laurens  thought  rapidly.  If  Paul  Woodstock 
could  decipher  Mow-Sing's  letter  and  learn  that  he 
was  aboard  the  Royal  Consort  he  would  move 
heaven  and  earth  to  overtake  the  schooner,  and  the 
young  man  wondered  why  he  had  not  already  come 
to  his  rescue,  not  realizing  that  the  authorities  to 
which  his  friend  would  have  to  appeal  were  not 
keyed  to  a  nervous  tension  on  his  account,  and  that 
certain  lengths  of  red  tape  were  essential  in  gov 
ernmental  actions. 

One  comfort  was  that  when  a  rescue  party  once 
started  it  would  not  have  far  to  go;  for  by  the 
sounds  penetrating  the  cabin  the  young  man  was 
aware  that  there  was  no  progress  being  made 
toward  open  water.  The  vessel  rolled  sluggishly 
in  the  trough  of  the  sea;  there  was  a  clatter 
ing  of  loose  blocks  overhead,  and  an  occasional 
thunderous  flap  of  the  swaying  mainsail.  The  rud 
der  kicked  violently  to  the  swells,  and  the  becalmed 


264  THE  IVORY  BALL 

schooner  swung  to  and  fro  with  the  regularity  of  a 
metronome.  No;  they  would  not  have  to  look  far, 
if  they  had  started. 

Under  the  conditions  Laurens  realized  that  there 
was  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  it  appeared  easy.  He 
would  make  his  position  below  as  safe  as  possible 
until  the  Royal  Consort  was  reached  and  boarded. 
As  he  stood  in  the  room  he  figured  how  he  might 
hold  the  captain  and  crew  at  bay.  His  first  idea 
was  to  get  Foo-Was  into  Chow  T'su's  room  on  the 
plea  that  the  mandarin  wished  to  see  him,  and  lock 
him  in.  But  he  saw  the  plan  was  weak  in  many 
respects;  it  would  end  in  his  being  obliged  to  deliber 
ately  kill  the  man,  and  he  did  not  relish  the  idea 
of  bloodshed;  he  would  shed  none  unless  absolutely 
necessary.  To  barricade  and  hold  the  saloon  seemed 
the  most  feasible  plan  and  he  decided  upon  it. 

Knowing  that  there  must  be  a  passage  from  the 
saloon  to  forward  he  turned  to  the  boy,  who  had 
remained  silent.  "Is  Foo-Was  on  deck?"  he  asked. 

"Yeh." 

"Is  there  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  passage — a 
door  with  a  lock?" 

"Yeh,"  was  the  prompt  answer.  "Door  by 
pantly — allee  samee  big  bolt." 

"Fasten  it  chop — come  back  chop." 


SUCCESS  265 

"Yeh.  Alice  samee  lock  big  door  by  compan- 
lion?"  The  boy's  quick  brain  had  caught  the  idea 
before  it  was  explained.  "No,"  whispered  Laurens. 
"I'll  look  to  the  companion  doors.  We  must  hold 
the  cabin  until  Woodstock  comes.  Sabe?" 

"Yeh."  Mow-Sing  was  out  of  the  room  in  an 
instant,  running  to  the  door  which  separated  the 
after  quarters  from  forward.  Laurens'  work  was 
now  clearly  cut  out.  Without  waiting  for  the  boy 
to  return  he  walked  into  the  saloon  and  up  the  stairs 
to  the  deck. 

It  was  as  he  had  anticipated.  The  wind  had  fallen 
to  a  flat  calm,  but  the  ocean  was  still  a  series  of  low, 
unruffled  swells  that  rolled  from  the  west  and  passed 
under  the  schooner  to  break  in  thundering  surf  on 
the  rocks  of  the  California  coast.  By  this  the  Royal 
Consort  had  drifted  south  of  the  Golden  Gate,  the 
entrance  of  which  could  not  be  seen.  The  sky  was 
almost  white,  the  sun  murky,  and  the  horizon  ap 
peared  to  have  drawn  in.  By  experience  Laurens 
knew  that  the  calm  would  not  be  protracted;  he 
looked  for  a  dazzling  sun  and  a  powerful  wind  from 
the  north  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours,  and  he 
hoped  he  would  then  be  alive.  Two  or  three  steam 
ers  were  in  sight,  inward  bound,  but  they  were  far 
away  and  could  be  of  no  assistance  to  him. 


266  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Not  a  soul  was  on  the  quarterdeck,  the  steersman 
having  deserted  the  useless  wheel,  but  in  the  waist 
of  the  idle  schooner  stood  Captain  Foo-Was  talking 
to  his  boatswain  mate.  Farther  forward  the  watch 
on  deck  was  lying  around  in  the  easy  fashion  of  the 
Chinese  sailor  when  not  driven  to  action. 

The  captain  saw  the  young  man  as  he  came  up 
and  stopped  by  the  cabin  doors,  but  he  gave  no  sign 
other  than  a  venomous  glance,  which  was  lost  on 
Laurens,  who  only  marked  him  through  the  tail  of 
his  eye.  Presently  the  Chinaman  swung  his  back  to 
him  and  continued  his  talk  with  the  boatswain. 

The  moment  was  auspicious.  Ducking  into  the 
companion-way  Laurens  quickly  drew  the  slide  over 
the  wide  hatch  and  closed  the  heavy  doors,  bolting 
them,  at  the  same  time  hooking  the  latch  cover. 
Not  without  an  ax  or  a  battering-ram  could  entrance 
be  made  to  the  cabin  from  that  direction.  Run 
ning  down  the  steps  he  met  Mow-Sing.  "Are  there 
arms  on  board — pistols — guns?"  he  demanded  of 
the  alert  boy. 

"Fistol  in  Foo-Was  place.  Me  know.  Me 
makee  bed." 

"Get  it  for  yourself.     Can  you  shoot?" 

"You  see — if  makee." 

"Good!    Which  is  Miss  Dalzell's  room?" 


SUCCESS  267 

The  boy  pointed  to  a  door  on  the  starboard  side, 
himself  running  to  the  one  opposite.  Laurens 
rapped,  but  there  was  no  answer.  Again  he 
knocked,  and  when  there  was  no  return  a  great 
fear  clutched  him.  He  now  shook  the  door  and 
guardedly  called  her  name.  At  once  he  heard  a 
muffled  cry  and  a  moment  later  the  key  was  turned 
in  the  lock,  the  door  thrown  open,  and  she  stood 
before  him. 

Laurens  uttered  an  exclamation.  The  girl  was 
the  ghost  of  her  old  self.  White  and  drawn  she 
looked  at  him  with  great,  gaunt  eyes,  then  ejacu 
lated:  "Thank  God!  I — I  thought  you  dead!" 
With  that  she  tottered  and  would  have  fallen  had 
he  not  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  was  uncon 
scious  when  he  carried  her  to  her  bunk.  He  looked 
around.  The  room  was  fair  sized  but  there  was 
none  of  the  luxurious  fittings  of  his  own  quarters; 
it  was  almost  perfectly  bare,  the  only  furniture  being 
a  washstand  and  a  chair;  and  it  was  lighted  by  a 
single,  round  port.  A  door  communicated  with  an 
adjoining  room,  and  Laurens  more  than  surmised 
that  it  was  Chow  T'su's  cabin  into  which  it  opened. 
A  trunk  was  against  it,  braced  by  the  chair,  and  the 
young  man  quickly  guessed  the  motive  for  the  slight 


268  THE  IVORY  BALL 

barricade.     Over  the  door  was  a  narrow,  ground- 
glass  transom,  closed  and  fastened. 

Laurens  could  do  nothing  for  the  girl  but  chafe 
her  hands,  wet  her  forehead  and  wait  for  her  to 
recover.  Presently  she  opened  her  eyes.  "Where 
— where  is  he?"  she  asked  wildly. 

"Out  of  the  way  of  doing  harm  for  the  present. 
Why  are  you  here  and  in  this  condition?" 

"He — he  was  starving  me,"  she  returned,  looking 
at  Laurens  in  wonder. 

"Starving  you!     For  what?" 

She  was  trembling  from  weakness  and  nervous 
shock.  "He  told  me  you  were  dead;  that  you  had 
jumped  overboard  without — without  a  word." 

"But  why  starve  you  to  punish  me?" 

"No,  it  wasn't — that.     He  wanted  me  to  be 

Oh,  I  cannot  tell  you !"     And  she  sobbed  convul 
sively. 

"You  need  not  tell  me.  I  know,"  said  Laurens; 
and  with  his  love  for  her  mingling  with  a  great  pity, 
he  bent  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips.  He  knew,  though 
he  could  not  have  told  how  he  knew.  He  could 
play  the  part  he  so  long  wished,  for  there  had  been 
•more  than  mere  relief  in  her  eyes.  Like  a  lost  child 
who  had  found  its  home  she  threw  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  held  him  close,  and  for  a  moment — for 


SUCCESS  269 

many  moments,  Laurens  forgot  the  surrounding  con 
ditions.  He  forgot  the  danger  hanging  over  them; 
he  forgot  Chow  T'su,  Mow-Sing,  and  the  devil  on 
deck,  only  feeling  that  he  would  now  be  equal  to 
meeting  anything — even  death. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
BESIEGED 

TIME  passed.  The  two  exchanged  confidences, 
and  in  as  few  words  as  possible  Laurens  told 
what  had  been  done  and  what  were  his 
hopes.  And  he  learned  the  girl's  simple  story,  tem 
pered  in  the  telling,  but  between  her  words  he  could 
read  the  passion  of  the  villain  who  had  little  respect 
for  man  and  none  for  woman.  To  force  her  to  his 
purpose  Chow  T'su  had  been  starving  her.  She  had 
been  taken  aboard  the  yacht  the  day  before  Laurens 
came,  and  placed  in  what  was  practically  a  dungeon, 
and  nothing  save  water  had  passed  her  lips  for 
forty-eight  hours.  She  had  finally  locked  herself 
against  the  Chinaman,  barricading  the  door  to  his 
room.  She  thought  she  was  dying  when  she  heard 
her  lover's  voice,  and  could  hardly  believe  her 
senses.  Laurens  learned  that  she  had  been  quick  to 
catch  the  situation  on  the  day  Chow  T'su  permitted 

270 


BESIEGED  271 

them  to  meet,  but  why  he  had  brought  them  together 
save  to  pique  the  girl  with  Laurens'  indifference,  an 
indifference  which  had  been  commanded,  neither 
could  understand.  She,  too,  had  been  threatened  if 
she  indicated  dissatisfaction  with  her  position.  It 
had  been  a  clumsy  subterfuge  of  the  otherwise  astute 
Chinaman.  Each  had  been  played  against  the  other, 
and  when  the  mandarin  had  stated  that  the  house 
had  been  sold  she  was  perfectly  aware  of  what 
would  happen — that  she  would  be  taken  to  China, 
so  Chow  T'su  had  told  her,  and  she  had  fainted 
under  the  shock. 

During  the  recital  the  girl  clung  to  Laurens  as  a 
woman  clings  only  to  the  man  she  loves,  and  he, 
at  last  realizing  that  kisses  make  poor  food  for  a 
starving  woman,  was  about  to  provide  for  her  when 
Mow-Sing  appeared  at  the  door. 

"He  come  tiffin  soon — perhaps,"  said  the  boy, 
without  seeming  to  notice  the  intimate  relations  of 
the  two. 

"You  mean  Foo-Was?"  asked  Laurens,  starting 
up  and  realizing  that  his  passion  had  made  him 
remiss. 

The  boy  nodded.  "How  do,  Missy?  No  feaE 
Mow-Sing.  Him  fliend." 

"A  better  one  than  I  in  my  selfishness !"  said  Lau- 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

rens.  He  looked  at  his  watch;  it  was  nearly  noon. 
"Can  you  get  something  to  eat?  Missy  is  starving." 

"Plenty  glub  in  pantly,"  was  the  quick  return. 
"Me  get." 

He  ran  down  the  passage  and  before  he  came 
back  Laurens  grew  alive  to  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  a  poor  general  and  that  there  were  two  serious 
matters  to  be  overcome.  First,  the  stained  glass  sky 
light  was  wide  open,  allowing  a  clear  view  from  the 
deck  of  the  saloon's  interior,  and  it  could  not  be 
closed  from  below;  not  only  was  it  a  point  of  ob 
servation,  but  also  one  for  offensive  action,  lor 
though  it  had  transverse  bars  they  were  not  as  heavy 
as  Laurens  wished  they  were.  Second,  that  the  girl 
could  not  remain  in  her  own  room;  it  was  too  small. 
If  matters  came  to  a  fight  and  the  crew  gained  access 
to  the  cabin  she  would  be  in  terrible  danger.  Her 
room  could  not  be  defended  as  effectually  as  could 
his,  which  commanded  a  full  view  of  the  saloon  as 
well  as  the  passage  from  end  to  end. 

Laurens  had  little  fear  that  the  companion-way 
doors  would  not  hold  against  any  ordinary  assault, 
but  the  forward  one  he  was  far  from  being  sure 
about.  The  skylight  could  not  be  closed,  but  he 
would  remove  Josephine  to  his  own  quarters  and 
have  her  directly  under  his  eye. 


BESIEGED  273 

I  Taking  advantage  of  the  continued  quiet  he  ex 
cused  himself.  Running  from  the  room  he  tore 
down  the  curtain  across  the  passage.  He  then  ex 
amined  the  forward  door,  passing  the  pantry  where 
Mow-Sing  was  engaged,  and  found  the  door  was 
fastened  by  a  heavy  bolt,  but  the  wood  was  not  of 
the  strength  of  that  in  the  companion-way.  If  it 
were  broken  in  and  a  rush  made  there  would  be 
nothing  to  do  but  fire  from  his  own  room  and  count 
on  the  assault  being  repulsed,  he  having  reason  to 
believe  that  the  crew  had  no  firearms,  though  each 
one  possessed  a  knife. 

From  the  passage  he  went  to  his  own  cabin.  Chow 
T'su  still  lay  where  he  had  fallen,  his  fat  body  sway 
ing  with  the  motion  of  the  vessel.  He  was  appar 
ently  dead,  but  his  slow,  faint  breathing  and  flutter 
ing  pulse  told  Laurens  that  he  was  yet  alive  though 
profoundly  unconscious.  With  no  more  compunc 
tion  than  though  the  Chinaman  were  a  bale  of  goods 
he  dragged  him  out;  his  door,  next  to  Josephine's, 
was  locked,  and  without  stopping  to  search  for  the 
key  and  examine  his  berth  Laurens  hauled  him  to 
the  further  end  of  the  passage,  depositing  the  pon 
derous  body  against  the  dangerous  door,  its  bulk 
helping  to  barricade  it.  A  few  minutes  later  he  had 
the  girl  in  his  own  room  and  saw  her  eating  the  food 


274  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Mow-Sing  had  brought.  So  far  as  provisions  were 
concerned  they  might  stand  a  siege  of  many  days. 

Though  relieved  of  one  great  load  Laurens  had 
taken  on  another,  and  the  tension  of  his  nerves  was 
even  more  pronounced  because  of  the  nearness  of  a 
new  crisis.  It  was  now  well  past  noon  and  nothing 
had  happened;  the  companion-way  doors  had  not 
even  been  tried.  The  calm  of  the  elements  still  pre 
vailed;  the  vessel  swayed  to  and  fro  with  monoto 
nous  regularity,  the  blocks  rattled,  the  rudder  kicked 
spasmodically,  and  the  woodwork  creaked. 

It  was  with  a  mingling  of  feelings  that  Laurens 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  one  eye  on  Josephine, 
who  was  visibly  stronger  after  a  glass  of  wine,  the 
other  on  the  open  skylight.  Save  for  the  complaints 
from  the  racked  vessel  there  were  no  other  sounds, 
and  the  absence  of  them  seemed  portentous  to  the 
man. 

The  girl,  released  from  a  terrible  danger,  became 
buoyant  instead  of  being  depressed,  the  contrast  be 
tween  her  late  and  her  present  position  acting  as  a 
tonic,  and  her  boundless  faith  in  the  ability  of  her 
lover  to  protect  her  kept  her  from  realizing  the  un 
certainty  that  tightened  the  nerves  of  Laurens  and 
held  his  spirits  in  check.  If  Mow-Sing,  who  wa;; 
now  crouched  on  the  top  step  of  the  companion 


BESIEGED  275 

stairs,  revolver  in  hand,  had  any  doubts  regarding 
the  future,  he  kept  them  to  himself. 

The  minutes  dragged.  It  grew  to  be  one  o'clock, 
and  the  fact  that  tiffin  hour  had  been  passed  and  no 
notice  taken  of  it,  troubled  Laurens.  But  he  was 
ready.  He  had  examined  both  the  automatic,  and 
the  revolver  taken  from  the  captain's  room,  deter 
mined  not  to  be  the  victim  of  another  false  cart 
ridge.  He  found  the  weapons  perfect  and  fully 
loaded,  but  wished  he  had  more  than  the  fifteen 
shots  both  contained. 

He  was  becoming  as  nervous  as  a  hysterical 
woman,  being  sure  that  those  on  deck  had  somehow 
become  alive  to  the  situation  below.  He  drank  a 
glass  of  wine  and  smoked  a  cigar,  but  could  eat  noth 
ing.  He  had  become  sure  that  something  would 
soon  happen  to  break  the  damnable  suspense  and 
permit  definite  action. 

And  something  did  happen. 

He  had  stepped  out  into  the  saloon  and  was  about 
to  speak  to  Mow-Sing  when  he  heard  the  companion- 
way  door  tried,  then  it  was  shaken  and  afterward 
kicked  upon.  Laurens  beckoned  to  the  boy  and  they 
both  took  station  behind  the  trunk  of  the  mainmast 
which  came  through  the  deck  at  the  head  of  the  pas 
sage.  From  that  position  they  had  perfect  command 


276  THE  IVORY  BALL 

of  the  companion-way  door  and  the  entire  length  of 
the  skylight.  As  they  stood  there  the  girl  appeared, 
but  Laurens  laid  a  finger  on  his  lip  and  motioned  her 
back.  She  instantly  obeyed  and  had  hardly  retired 
when  the  skylight  opening  showed  the  head  of  Cap 
tain  Foo-Was.  He  looked  down  and  on  seeing  the 
apparently  empty  saloon  he  shouted  in  Chinese 
through  the  opening.  Receiving  no  answer  he  went 
away,  and  again  silence  fell.  But  it  was  only  for  a 
moment.  The  silent  watchers  heard  the  passage 
door  being  tried,  and  a  minute  later  the  head  of 
Foo-Was  again  appeared  at  the  skylight.  Now  he 
shouted,  calling  for  Mow-Sing. 

Laurens  knew  that  whatever  might  happen  noth 
ing  would  be  gained  by  keeping  the  captain  in  the 
dark;  if  he  was  not  warned  he  would  certainly  chop 
his  way  into  the  saloon.  "Does  Foo-Was  under 
stand  English?"  he  whispered  to  the  boy  at  his  side. 

"Only  little  pidgin,"  was  the  low  return.  "First 
time  in  'Melica." 

"Then  tell  him  that  his  master,  Chow-T'su,  is 
dead;  that  he  cannot  come  down.  Tell  him  I  boss 
the  cabin  and  will  shoot  the  first  man  who  tries  to 
break  in.  Sabe?" 

The  boy  evidently  understood,  for  he  nodded  and 
began  shouting  in  a  sing-song  absolutely  unintelligible 


BESIEGED  277 

to  Laurens  but  having  a  decided  effect  on  Foo-Was, 
who  looked  as  astonished  as  a  Chinaman  can.  As 
the  boy  ceased,  his  words  were  taken  up  by  the  cap 
tain  and  repeated  to  the  crew,  who  evidently  stood 
near.  A  great  jabbering  was  the  result  and  several 
heads  appeared  at  the  opening,  but  they  were  in 
stantly  withdrawn. 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  Laurens. 

"Allee  samee  what  you  tell.  Say  Chow  T'su  go 
daid.  Say  you  got  ivly  ball.  Say  you  makee  me 
servant  man."  Mow-Sing  grinned  as  he  spoke. 

"You  were  fairly  accurate,  except  for " 

He  was  stopped  by  the  reappearance  of  the  cap 
tain's  head.  Foo-Was  hurled  a  volley  of  words 
below.  Mow-Sing  spoke  in  return,  and  there  was  a 
cross-fire  of  questions  and  answers.  The  boy's  last 
remark  was  very  short. 

"Well?"  said  Laurens,  when  the  captain  with 
drew. 

"Him  say  no  believe.  Alice  same  big  lie.  He 
say  you  damn  yang  kueitzu — allee  samee  foreign- 
devil.  Say  he  killee  you — he  killee  me — if  no  open 
door." 

"Ah!    And  what  did  you  tell  him?" 

"Tellee  go  hell." 

Mow-Sing  spoke  with  perfect  seriousness,  and  in 


278  THE  IVORY  BALL 

spite  of  the  situation  Laurens  laughed  for  the  first 
time  in  days.  He  realized  the  faithfulness  of  the  boy 
who  stood  by  him  and  against  his  own  countrymen, 
and  he  swore  to  himself  that  if  Providence  permitted 
him  to  get  from  his  present  coil,  such  devotion  would 
receive  a  rich  reward.  "Can  they  shoot?"  he  asked, 
as  the  clamor  on  deck  again  began. 

"No  Volvers.  Chinaman  no  likee  fistol.  Got 
knife." 

"Then  we  are  safe!"  exclaimed  Laurens.  "Will 
Woodstock  never  come !" 

"Him  come,"  returned  the  boy,  confidently. 
"Melican  yaman  slow.  Flesser  say  damn.  Melican 
yaman  hurry.  Send  big  boat  soon." 

Laurens  understood  the  reference  to  the  law's 
delay,  and  the  words  comforted  him  though  he 
feared  a  reverse  of  fortune  before  Woodstock  ar 
rived.  He  knew  the  cabin  would  be  attacked,  and 
that,  soon,  but  was  in  the  dark  as  to  which  point. 

He  did  not  wonder  long.  After  a  short  interval 
of  silence  there  was  a  sudden  renewal  of  the  shouts 
on  deck,  as  if  the  crew  were  applauding  some  speech, 
and  almost  immediately  the  wings  of  the  skylight 
were  lowered.  Hardly  had  they  settled  into  place 
when  the  whole  affair  was  beaten  in,  the  fragments 
of  stained  glass  flying  into  the  saloon  in  a  shower: 


BESIEGED  279 

a  moment  later  the  work  of  art  lay  scattered  on  the 
floor  and  nothing  but  the  bars  opposed  entrance 
from  overhead. 

Laurens  saw  that  Foo-Was  was  at  least  a  man 
of  action,  though  he  wondered  what  such  an  appar 
ently  useless  movement  could  mean.  He  raised  his 
pistol  to  fire  a  warning  shot  at  the  first  head  that 
should  appear  and  meddle  with  the  remaining  pro 
tection,  but  no  target  presented  itself  and  he  soon 
learned  that  the  Chinese  captain,  beside  being  a 
man  of  action  was  one  of  resource.  After  a  deal  of 
jabbering  a  spar  appeared  over  the  opening,  its  end 
being  lowered  to  engage  the  bars,  and  then  came  a 
word  of  command.  In  an  instant  the  powerful  lever 
tore  out  both  bars  and  frame,  and  with  their  going 
went  the  hope  of  holding  the  cabin,  there  now  being 
nothing  to  prevent  a  dozen  men  from  leaping 
through  the  gaping  hole. 

Laurens  had  hardly  grasped  the  full  meaning  of 
this  unforseen  disaster  when  he  heard  an  assault  on 
the  forward  door  and  became  aware  that  from 
where  he  stood  he  was  menaced  from  both  front  and 
rear;  his  position  had  become  critical,  and  to  remain 
where  he  was  meant  ruin. 

Catching  Mow-Sing  by  the  arm  he  ran  across  the 
cabin  and  into  his  own  room  in  order  that  from  his 


280  THE  IVORY  BALL 

door  he  would  have  his  enemies  in  front.    It  would 
be  his  last  stand. 

The  girl  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  her 
hands  over  her  heart,  her  eyes  wide  with  excite 
ment,  but  if  she  were  frightened  she  did  not  show 
it  by  either  screaming  or  by  questions;  she  only 
looked  at  Laurens  enquiringly  and  he  smiled  in  an 
effort  to  reassure  her,  but  it  was  a  feeble  smile  and 
one  which  would  not  have  deceived  a  child.  "We 
can  hold  them,"  was  all  he  said  in  comfort,  as  he 
swung  around  and  faced  the  open  door.  Mow-Sing 
had  crouched  against  the  lintel,  his  cocked  revolver 
pointed  toward  the  saloon.  And  thus  they  waited. 

Laurens  concluded  that  for  stragetic  reasons  no 
assault  would  come  through  the  skylight  until  the 
passa'ge  door  had  been  broken  down  and  a  rush 
made  from  practically  two  directions,  and  by  the 
regular  and  heavy  strokes  of  what  seemed  to  him 
a  spar  used  as  a  ram,  he  knew  that  it  would  soon  be 
accomplished. 

Finally  it  went,  and  as  it  collapsed  with  a  crash 
and  splintered,  it  half  jammed  against  the  body  of 
the  unconscious  Chow  T'su  and  prevented  a  clear 
opening.  As  two  or  three  men  squeezed  through  and 
rushed  down  the  passage  Laurens  fired.  He  saw  the 
first  man  fall,  and  as  Mow-Sing  let  go  a  shot  the 


BESIEGED  281 

others  turned  and  ran  back  to  safety,  standing 
beyond  the  opening  and  yelling  as  only  excited 
Chinamen  can  yell. 

But  if  Laurens  thought  he  had  repulsed  the  in 
vaders  for  good  he  was  mistaken.  The  shots  and 
the  shouting  appeared  to  act  as  a  signal  to  those 
on  deck,  for  hardly  had  the  American  recovered 
from  the  stunning  effect  of  the  explosions  in  close 
quarters  when  he  saw  three  men  leap  through  the 
skylight.  As  they  struck  the  table,  sending  the 
broken  glass  flying,  he  marked  that  each  man  had  a 
club  in  his  hand  and  a  knife  in  his  teeth. 

Instantly  he  fired  at  the  trio,  and  heard  the  boy's 
revolver  bark  at  the  same  moment.  He  saw  one 
coolie  drop  and  roll  to  the  floor;  he  saw  another  sink 
to  the  table;  the  third  man  appeared  uninjured,  and 
as  Laurens  covered  him  and  again  pressed  the 
trigger,  he  saw  another  batch  leap  down  from  the 
deck.  Both  he  and  Mow-Sing  fired  again  and  again, 
not  stopping  to  mark  results,  then  both  the  defend 
ers  became  aware  that  the  passage  was  filled  with 
others  bearing  down  on  them. 

Knowing  that  in  an  instant  he  would  be  over 
whelmed  by  numbers  Laurens  hauled  the  boy  back 
into  the  room  and  slammed  the  door,  bolting  it  just 
as  the  devils  outside  reached  it.  In  a  moment  he 


282  THE  IVORY  BALL 

had  piled  against  it  every  piece  of  movable  furniture 
in  the  cabin,  and  at  length  stood  panting  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  and  awaiting  the  last  act. 
Josephine  had  thrown  herself  on  the  bed  and  lay 
still,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 

After  a  few  thumps  on  the  heavy  door  the  attack 
ceased,  but  to  those  in  the  cabin  the  fact  brought 
little  hope;  it  was  only  an  interim  until  something 
effective  could  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  obstruction. 
In  the  ensuing  silence — a  silence  so  profound  that  it 
was  worse  than  the  late  bedlam,  Laurens  and  Mow- 
Sing  stood  waiting,  and  the  wait  was  so  long  that 
they  became  puzzled  at  it.  Hoping  against  hope, 
he  stepped  to  a  port  and  looked  out.  Nothing  but 
the  rolling  sea  and  white  sky  were  visible,  the  drift 
ing  schooner  having  swung  so  that  not  even  the  coast 
could  be  seen.  He  turned  and  spoke  for  the  first 
time  to  the  girl  who  still  lay  in  an  attitude  of  despair. 
He  knew  that  with  his  final  defeat  her  fate  would 
be  worse  than  his,  and  his  would  be  bad  enough. 

"Josephine,"  he  said.  The  girl  lifted  her  head 
and  looked  at  him,  and  there  was  a  strange  expres 
sion  in  her  eyes.  "This  is  the  end,"  she  returned, 
but  not  at  all  wildly.  "What  were  you  going  to 
say?" 


BESIEGED  283 

"Nothing,  but  to  tell  you  what  I  fear.  We  are 
driven  into  a  corner,  and " 

"I  know — I  know,"  she  interrupted.  "And  I  am 
useless.  You  need  not  tell  me  the  rest.  How  many 
shots  have  you  left?" 

"A  dozen  between  us,  perhaps.    I  think " 

"Save  one — for  me — at  the  end.  Kiss  me  now, 
John — and  promise." 

Laurens  was  staggered.     "Do  you  mean  it?" 

"Would  it  not  be  the  best  way?  I  would  rather 
die  than  face  those  outside.  You  will  promise?" 

He  did  not  answer,  for  just  then  he  heard  a  blow 
on  the  deck  above  him  and  by  its  character  he  knew 
what  was  coming.  The  stroke  was  that  of  an  ax; 
they  were  cutting  through  the  deck,  and  at  the  same 
moment  a  similar  assault  began  on  the  door.  To 
Laurens  the  end  was  at  hand.  Stepping  to  Mow- 
Sing  he  said:  "They  will  get  us,  my  lad.  If  I  am 
killed  first,  you  shoot  Missy.  Sabe?" 

Mow-Sing  looked  at  him,  his  eyes  winking  fast. 
"You  die  for  Missy?" 

"Yes." 

"No  have  to — perhaps." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Mow-Sing,  him  go  out.     Say  killee  me — let  you 


284  THE  IVORY  BALL 

and  gal  go.  You  savee  me  once;  Mow-Sing  savee 
you,  perhaps." 

"Sacrifice  yourself  for  me?  Not  by  a  damned 
sight!"  returned  Laurens,  touched  by  the  boy's  de 
votion.  "It  would  be  a  useless  attempt,  anyway! 
No,  we'll  save  ourselves  by  dying  Chinese  fashion ! 
There's  enough  poison  here  to  finish  us  all!  I'll 
have  it  ready.  But  I'll  send  some  one  to  hell  with 
my  last  bullet !" 

Tearing  open  the  door  of  the  cabinet  he  took  out 
the  bottle  of  cyanide  and  was  about  to  pour  three 
doses  into  as  many  wine  glasses  when  he  was  brought 
to  a  stop  by  Mow-Sing  shouting: 

"You  see!  You  see!  Look!  Look!"  He  was 
dancing  and  pointing  to  a  port.  Laurens  dropped 
the  poison  and  ran  to  the  round  opening,  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  chopping  on  deck  ceased.  What 
he  saw  lifted  his  spirits  and  set  his  blood  on  fire.  A 
United  States  cruiser  lay  across  the  stern  of  the 
schooner.  It  was  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away 
and  had  come  into  sight  immediately  after  he  had 
looked  out  a  few  minutes  before.  But  it  was  not 
that  alone  which  set  his  blood  bounding;  it  was  the 
large  launch  which  had  put  from  the  side  of  the 
war  vessel  and  which  he  could  plainly  see  was  filled 
with  men.  With  a  white  bone  in  its  teeth  it  came 


BESIEGED  285 

tearing  over  the  swells,  straight  toward  the 
schooner,  and  Laurens  felt  that  they  were  saved. 
He  did  not  stop  to  wonder  how  it  was  that  an  Ameri 
can  war  vessel,  evidently  from  sea,  could  know  of 
his  dilemma  and  come  to  his  rescue;  he  only  knew  the 
fact,  and  the  sudden  reversal  of  fortune  made  him 
act  like  one  demented.  Catching  the  girl  in  his  arms 
he  covered  her  face  with  kisses.  He  could  not  speak. 
He  pointed  to  the  open  port  and  his  long  over 
strained  nerves  gave  out  as  between  laughing  and 
crying  he  tried  to  explain. 

But  his  justifiable  weakness  was  only  temporary. 
He  soon  realized  that  the  assault  on  the  door  had 
also  stopped  and  that  the  shouts  on  deck  had  been 
followed  by  a  scuffling  of  feet  and  then  by  the  old, 
uncertain  silence.  He  waited,  but  the  wait  seemed 
hours  long,  and  at  last  he  heard  a  thumping  on  the 
companion  doors.  It  was  followed  by  a  voice — a 
voice  in  good,  sound  English. 

"The  cabin,  ahoy!  Mr.  Laurens,  are  you 
below?" 

With  an  answering  yell  he  and  the  boy  tore  away 
the  barricade,  threw  open  the  door  and  rushed  into 
the  saloon.  The  floor  seemed  covered  with  men,  and 
an  officer  in  uniform  was  looking  down  through  the 
demolished  skylight. 


286  THE  IVORY  BALL 

It  took  Laurens  but  a  moment  to  get  on  deck.  At 
a  glance  he  saw  the  launch  fast  to  the  starboard 
chain-plates,  and  forward  were  huddled  Captain 
Foo-Was  and  what  was  left  of  the  Chinese  crew, 
held  there  by  six  armed  marines.  The  officer  who 
had  hailed  him  came  forward  with  extended  hand. 

"We  seemed  to  have  arrived  in  time  to  interrupt 
some  sort  of  a  circus!"  he  said,  smiling.  "I  am 
Lieutenant  Homer,  of  the  United  States  cruiser 
Connecticut.  You  look  to  have  had  rather  a  strenu 
ous  life,  sir!"  He  glanced  at  the  other's  shabby 
evening  clothes. 

"Thank  God  for  your  coming!"  returned  Lau 
rens,  effusively  shaking  the  proffered  hand.  "An 
hour  later  and  you  would  have  probably  been  use 
less,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  Is  Professor  Wood 
stock  aboard  you?  But,  of  course  not!  I'm  fairly 
muddled." 

"I  don't  know  who  you  mean,  sir,"  returned  the 
officer.  "Coming  along  the  coast  from  Chili  we 
picked  up  a  wireless  to  look  out  for  the  schooner 
Royal  Consort,  rescue  Lieutenant  Laurens,  arrest 
all  Chinamen  on  board  and  bring  the  vessel  to  San 
Francisco.  From  what  my  captain  told  me  I  gath 
ered  that  there  was  another  party  out  in  search  of 
you.  We  were  not  certain  that  this  was  the  craft 


BESIEGED  287 

indicated  until  the  launch  neared  her.  When  I  saw 
her  name  and  a  Chinese  crew  chopping  the  deck  I 
boarded  prepared  for  trouble.  There  was  not  much 
resistance.  I  presume  you  are  the  party  we  want, 
and  you  look  as  if  you  might  have  a  story  to  tell." 

"I  am  here — what  is  left  of  me,"  returned  Lau- 

rens.  "As  for  a  story Come  below  and  I  will 

show  you  a  sight." 

They  went  down.  Four  dead  Chinamen  and  one 
badly  wounded  lay  on  the  cabin  floor,  and  three 
more  were  in  the  passage.  Chow  T'su,  still  alive 
and  still  unconscious,  was  dragged  into  the  light.  At 
sight  of  the  ghastly  array  the  officer  whistled.  "All 
this  your  work,  Mr.  Laurens?" 

"Mine  and  the  boy's,  sir,"  returned  Laurens,  pat 
ting  Mow-Sing  on  the  shoulder. 

"My  orders  to  arrest  all  Chinamen  must  include 
him,  I  fear." 

Laurens  flared,  then  laughed.  "I  don't  think  you 
will  include  him  after  hearing  my  story,  sir.  Come 
into  the  cabin;  there  is  a  lady  in  this  case." 

They  went  into  the  disordered  room,  and  after 
introducing  the  officer  to  the  half  hysterical  Joseph 
ine,  who  was  at  first  taken  to  be  a  Chinese  woman, 
Laurens  gave  a  brief  account  of  the  tragedy.  "And 
now,  sir,  what  will  you  do  about  the  boy?  To  herd 


288  THE  IVORY  BALL 

him  forward  with  the  crew  would  mean  his  death; 
they  would  tear  him  to  pieces." 

"I  think  I  can  leave  him  to  you,"  was  the  hearty 
return,  "and  I  think  that  you  and  Miss  Dalzell  had 
better  return  to  the  Connecticut  with  me." 

"And  I  think  not,"  was  the  decisive  rejoinder. 
"Miss  Dalzell  will,  of  course,  decide  for  herself,  but 
here  she  will  be  no  curiosity  to  numberless  eyes.  The 
danger  has  passed  and  on  the  schooner  she  will  have 
every  comfort.  As  for  myself,  I  shall  remain 
aboard  the  Royal  Consort.  Chow  T'su  cannot  be 
easily  transhipped  in  his  present  condition,  and  I 
do  not  care  to  lose  sight  of  him  while  he  is  alive." 

"You  are  your  own  master,  of  course,"  was  the 
polite  return.  "I  will  clear  the  dead  from  the  cabin; 
as  for  the  rest,  I  must  first  report  to  the  command 
ing  officer.  He  will  probably  send  the  surgeon,  and 

a  few  more  men  to  guard  the  crew.  I  cannot 

Well?"  He  addressed  the  marine  who  entered  and 
saluted. 

"A  revenue  cutter  out  o'  the  Gate,  coming  along 
side,  sir,"  said  the  man.  "Looks  to  be  jammed  with 
people." 

Laurens  jumped  to  his  feet.  "Woodstock,  by  all 
that's  holy!"  he  cried,  and  ran  to  the  deck. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
A  CORNERED  RAT 

TWO  hours  later  the  Royal  Consort,  in  tow  of 
ihe  revenue  cutter,  was  forging  toward  San 
Francisco.  Chow  T'su's  room  had  been 
broken  into,  his  ponderous  body  deposited  in  his 
bunk,  and  the  Connecticut's  surgeon  had  just  de 
parted  in  a  launch. 

"It  is  nip  and  tuck  with  him,"  the  doctor  had  said, 
after  examining  the  eyes  of  the  unconscious  manda 
rin.  "But  if  he  don't  die  he  will  recover  and  be  him 
self — entirely  himself,  in  a  few  hours.  He  had  an 
enormous  dose.  There  is  little  I  can  do  at  present." 
And  he  had  gone  off. 

Laurens  had  searched  the  room  quietly  and  dis 
covered  the  ivory  ball  in  the  Chinaman's  luggage. 
Dizzy  with  fatigue  he  had  shown  the  stone  to  his 
astonished  friend,  and  told  his  story,  hitting  only 
the  high  places.  Woodstock  had  listened  but  had 
said  little  as  he  marked  the  condition  of  the  man. 

289 


290  THE  IVORY  BALL 

"I,  too,  have  something  of  a  yarn  which  will  interest 
you,  but  I  won't  inflict  you  with  it  now,"  he  said. 

"I  have  grown  old  over  this  matter,  and  when  I 
finally  hit  your  trail  through  the  most  remarkable 
letter  I  ever  received,  I  thought  the  authorities 
would  never  move.  We  got  to  the  house  in  Menlo 

Park  too  late But  you've  had  enough  for  one 

day.  You'd  better  rest  or  you'll  collapse." 

Laurens  had  gone  to  a  spare  room  and,  dressed 
as  he  was,  fell  into  a  heavy  slumber.  Josephine  re 
mained  in  the  after  cabin  and  was  also  asleep,  the 
doctor  having  given  her  something  to  quiet  her. 
Mow-Sing  was  curled  up  in  the  pantry,  and  Wood 
stock  sat  on  deck,  the  prisoners  having  been  taken 
aboard  the  cutter,  no  one  but  the  helmsman  being  in 
sight.  In  the  cabin  not  a  soul  was  awake  but  the 
marine  stationed  at  the  door  of  Chow  T'su's  room. 

It  was  early  morning  when  Laurens  was  brought 
to  his  senses  by  Mow-Sing  shaking  him.  "Chow 
T'su — him  wake  up,"  said  the  boy.  "Flesser  want 
see  you." 

Laurens  felt  refreshed.  He  jumped  from  his 
bunk  and  went  into  the  saloon,  where  he  found 
Woodstock  waiting  for  him.  "Sorry  to  disturb  you, 
old  man,"  he  greeted,  "but  the  devil  has  come  to 
his  senses.  He  must  have  the  stomach  of  a  goat  to 


A  CORNERED  RAT  291 

throw  off  that  dose  so  soon.  I  looked  in  and  saw 
him." 

"How  is  he?" 

"Weak,  but  otherwise  normal,  I  fancy.  He  has 
the  eyes  of  a  snake  with  a  broken  back.  I  have 
reason  to  think  we  had  better  have  him  out  before 
reaching  port.  I  have  something  to  tell  him  that  I 
wish  you  to  hear.  The  man's  fat  is  in  the  fire  in 
more  ways  than  one.  I  wish  I  might  dictate  as  to 
his  disposal." 

"I  wish  you  might,"  returned  Laurens.  "I  con 
fess  I  would  not  know  what  to  do  with  him.  I  leave 
it  to  the  law."  He  turned  to  the  marine.  "Bring 
him  in.  Watch  him  like  a  cat;  he's  a  treacherous 
beast." 

The  man  saluted  and  went  to  the  Chinaman's 
door.  Presently  Chow  T'su  stalked  into  the  saloon. 
To  Laurens'  astonishment  he  seemed  but  little  the 
worse  for  wear,  perhaps  because  of  the  gorgeous 
gown  of  his  order  which  he  had  put  on,  now  being 
in  full  regalia,  even  to  the  buttoned  cap  denoting  his 
rank.  He  was  smoking  a  cigarette  and  to  all  ap 
pearances  had  entirely  recovered  from  the  effects 
of  his  dose  of  chloral.  But  he  was  not  the  same  as 
he  had  been;  his  pallor  was  intense,  his  lips  were 
compressed,  and  his  slit-like  eyes  were  barely  open. 


292  THE  IVORY  BALL 

Laurens  bowed  mockingly,  a  salute  which  was  not 
returned. 

With  something  of  his  former  dignity,  but  more 
of  an  insulting  confidence  in  himself,  Chow  T'su 
walked  to  a  chair  by  the  table,  seated  himself  with 
out  invitation,  crossed  his  legs  and  blew  a  cloud  of 
smoke  toward  the  open  skylight,  at  the  same  time 
throwing  a  contemptuous  glance  at  his  former 
prisoner.  At  that  moment  Mow-Sing  came  in.  As 
he  saw  him  the  mandarin's  eyes  opened  and  some 
thing  like  a  flash  was  emitted.  'The  boy  cringed  and 
edged  toward  Laurens,  but  the  Chinaman  did  not 
offer  to  speak;  he  did  not  even  look  at  Woodstock 
or  the  marine. 

It  was  Laurens  who  broke  the  silence.  "I  trust 
you  have  had  a  comfortable  nap,"  he  began. 

"The  honorable  Laurens  is  pleased  to  be  ironi 
cal,"  was  the  return,  in  the  old,  smooth  tone. 

"Not  at  all !  I  would  only  remind  you  that  Con 
fucius  says:  'No  needle  is  sharp  at  both  ends!' ' 

The  Chinaman  stiffened  perceptibly  as  he  took  a 
puff  at  his  cigarette.  "You  are  trite,  sir.  You 
lowered  yourself  to  traducing  my  servant." 

"I  beg  your  distinguished  pardon,"  returned  Lau 
rens.  "The  initiative  was  his.  You  drove  him  from 
you  by  your  cruelty.  I  have  studied  your  Confucius 


A  CORNERED  RAT  293 

well.  He  states  that  a  distant  relative  is  of  less 
value  than  a  near  friend." 

Chow  T'su  threw  his  cigarette  to  the  floor  and 
shifted  uneasily.  "You  think  you  can  afford  to 
smile,"  he  returned. 

"Yes!  'If  fortune  smiles,  who  does  not?'  Con 
fucius  again!" 

"Is  it  part  of  your  ethics  to  bait  a  prisoner?"  de 
manded  Chow  T'su,  with  his  first  flash  of  temper. 

"Say,  rather,  an  honored  guest.  You  may  thank 
me  that  you  are  not  an  inmate  of  a  United  States 
cruiser's  brig.  I  am  responsible  for  you.  Is  there 
anything  of  which  my  charge  complains?"  Laurens 
was  filled  with  an  ugly  joy  as  Chow  T'su  winced  on 
being  reminded  of  his  own  words  under  different 
circumstances. 

"Sir,"  he  :  turned,  "I  think  our  differences  are 
now  well  balanced.  You  are  clear,  though  brutal. 
I  have  studied  our  case,  and ' 

Laurens  interrupted:  "I  have  it  from  your  Confu 
cius  that  some  study  usually  shows  the  need  of  more. 
Can  I  enlighten  you  in  any  way,  my  friend?"  He 
spoke  as  blandly  as  Chow  T'su  had  ever  done. 

"You  might  tell  me  what  your  intentions  are," 
was  the  quick  return. 

"Well,"  said  Laurens,  "I  do  not  thirst  for  your 


294  THE  IVORY  BALL 

life,  even  at  your  own  hands,  as  you  did  for  mine ;  but 
considering  the  boasted  length  of  your  arm  I  shall 
never  consent  to  your  freedom.  Have  you  anything 
to  propose?  If  you  insist,  I  might  give  you  a  knife, 
or  a  rope,  and  there  is  always  a  razor — or  there 
are  still  things  in  the  cabinet,  if  you  desire  something 
more  speedy.  Forgive  me  these  details;  you  have 
forced  me  to  appear  discourteous  to  a  guest." 

The  badgered  Chinaman  evidently  remembered 
his  own  words.  He  bit  his  lip  before  answering. 

"My  arrest  was  not  legal.  I  was  beyond  the 
three-mile  limit  of  your,  country's  jurisdiction " 

"You  certainly  are  within  it  now,"  interrupted 
Laurens.  "But  what  were  you  about  to  remark?" 

"That  we  compromise  this  matter.  I  will  waive 
all  claim  to  everything  if  you  will  return  my  relative, 
Mow-Sing,  to  me.  I  will  even  pay  you  for " 

"Not  on  your  miserable  life!"  answered  Laurens, 
hotly.  "There  is  not  that  much  money  in  the 
world." 

"I  shall  appeal  to  the  Chinese  minister,  sir." 

"Not  after  I'm  through  with  you,"  put  in  Wood 
stock,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 

The  Chinaman  ignored  him,  but  the  archaeologist 
advanced  to  the  table  and  struck  it  sharply  with  his 
knuckles  to  command  attention.  "You  will  alter 


A  CORNERED  RAT  295 

your  superior  air  in  a  moment,  sir,"  he  said,  speak 
ing  slowly  and  clearly.  "My  friend  here,  whom  you 
have  more  than  outraged,  has  said  that,  outside  the 
law,  he  would  be  in  a  quandary  as  to  what  to  do 
with  you." 

"Yes?"  returned  the  Chinaman,  producing  and 
lighting  another  cigarette.  "He  may  well  be,  having 
been  treated  with  the  greatest  distinction." 

"But  I  am  in  no  doubt,"  snapped  Woodstock.  "I 
have  but  lately  returned  from  China.  You  have  an 
axiom  there  that  the  tallest  towers  fall  hardest  and 
make  the  greatest  ruin.  Sir,  you  will  soon  alter  your 
insolent  attitude.  Listen  attentively.  You  are  Chow 
T'su,  of  the  house  of  the  Flying  Dragon,  an  upper- 
class  family,  but  poor.  Do  you  remember  how  For 
mosa  was  lost  to  China?" 

Chow  T'su's  jaw  fell  and  his  narrow  eyes  snapped 
open,  but  he  made  no  reply.  Woodstock  went  on: 
"When  you  saw  the  strength  of  Japan  and  knew 
that  its  aim  was  to  get  Formosa,  in  order  to  expand, 
and  that  it  would  probably  be  successful  in  overcom 
ing  the  opposition  of  your  government,  you  secretly 
cast  your  lot  with  them,  little  dreaming  at  the  time 
that  the  Dowager  Empress  would  ever  return  to 
power.  For  the  services  of  your  brother  and  your 
self  you  were  granted  large  estates  on  that  island 


296  THE  IVORY  BALL 

and  you  put  your  miserable  soul  into  gathering  yen, 
by  a  method  of  extortion,  from  your  tenants.  You 
finally  sold  your  grants  for  an  immense  sum.  You 
returned  to  China  enormously  wealthy  and,  being 
educated,  you  were  made  a  mandarin  by  the  throne 
you  had  hoodwinked.  Am  I  not  right,  so  far?" 

There  was  no  answer.  The  Chinaman  only  stared 
at  the  professor.  The  scientist  went  on:  "But  you 
are  not  wholly  a  fraud.  Conservatism  is  the  curse 
of  your  country,  and  undoubtedly  your  worship  of 
the  Confucian  relic  was  genuine,  else  you  wrould 
never  have  endured  the  hardships  and  degradation 
to  which  you  submitted.  To  you  it  brought  its  curse, 
if  it  has  any.  Immediately  after  its  loss  you  dis 
appeared  from  China,  a  victim  to  your  fanaticism. 
Not  until  two  days  ago  did  I  learn  of  these  passages 
in  your  life." 

"From  whom?"  asked  the  Chinaman,  attempting 
to  hide  his  intense  interest. 

"From  your  confidential  secretary,  Mr.  Kimeo," 
answered  Woodstock.  "Listen  a  moment  longer," 
he  continued,  as  Chow  T'su  was  about  to  speak. 
"Through  a  letter  from  your  mistreated  major 'domo 
— also  a  member  of  the  house  of  the  Flying  Dragon, 
I  discovered  where  you  had  imprisoned  Mr.  Laurens 
and  Miss  Dalzell,  and  I  notified  the  police.  With 


A  CORNERED  RAT  297 

a  force  I  went  to  your  house  and  found  you  and 
your  victims  were  gone,  but  we  rounded  up  your  re 
maining  household,  among  them  your  precious  sec 
retary,  who  is  a  renegade  Jap,  as  you  are  a  traitor 
ous  Chinaman.  He  is  a  coward.  He  broke  down 
under  close  questioning,  and  confessed  the  whole 
business — your  antecedents,  your  political  position, 
and  your  motive  and  manner  of  beguiling  Miss  Dal- 
zell  and  Mr.  Laurens  into  your  power." 

Laurens  listened  in  amazement  but  did  not  inter 
rupt.  Woodstock  paused  a  moment.  Chow  T'su 
looked  stupidly  at  him,  his  half-consumed  cigarette 
dropping  from  his  fingers. 

"Sir,"  went  on  the  professor,  "you  had  no  inten 
tion  of  returning  to  China-  -vou  dared  not.  This 
schooner,  loaded  with  your  household  effects,  was 
cleared  for  Valparaiso,  .where  you  hoped  to  settle 
and  live  a  life  of  grandeur.  You  are  perfectly  aware 
there  are  no  priests  of  the  temple  of  the  Eye  of  God 
— that  the  order  has  been  dissolved  for  nearly  ten 
years,  after  the  temple  was  destroyed  during  the 
Boxer  riots.  You  intended  having  Mr.  Laurens 
murdered  before  reaching  Valparaiso,  if  he  did  not 
commit  suicide  before.  You  intended  to  force  Miss 
Dalzell  into  disreputable  relations  with  yourself.  So 


298  THE  IVORY  BALL 

confessed  your  secretary,  and  I  believe  him,  for  his 
story  fits  your  character. 

"And  now,  sir,  for  your  disposition.  If  the  au 
thorities  do  not  send  you  to  prison  for  twenty  years 
it  will  be  because  the  Chinese  minister  will  insist  on 
your  being  deported  to  your  own  country,  where  the 
Dowager  Empress  will  doubtless  welcome  you  as  she 
welcomed  your  brother,  who  lost  his  head  within  six 
hours  after  appearing  in  court.  Did  you  not  know 
that?  Have  you  anything  to  say?" 

The  Chinaman  could  not  reply;  certainly  he  did 
not.  With  Woodstock's  reference  to  his  being  de 
ported  the  last  of  his  arrogant  air  departed;  his 
head  fell  forward  and  he  was  apparently  staring  at 
a  vision  in  the  glass-scored  mahogany  table,  his  fat 
face  suddenly  drawn. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Laurens,  struck  by  the  abject 
wretchedness  of  the  man. 

"Let  me — let — me — alone,"  was  the  scarcely 
audible  reply.  A  moment  later  the  fallen  Chinaman 
seemed  to  come  to  a  sense  of  his  surroundings.  He 
straightened  himself,  got  unsteadily  to  his  feet,  and 
like  a  man  recovering  from  a  blow,  but  still  with  a 
feeble  effort  at  pride,  he  walked  into  his  room  and 
closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
SAVING  HIS  FACE 

IT  was  growing  dusk  and  the  Royal  Consort  had 
dropped  her  anchor  off  the  Customs  Dock  in 
San  Francisco.  Mow-Sing  had  been  at  once 
dispatched  to  Laurens'  apartment  for  clothing,  and 
that  gentleman,  feeling  something  like  his  old  self, 
was  sitting  under  the  rigged  awning  on  the  vessel's 
quarter-deck  with  Josephine.  Woodstock  had  gone 
ashore  to  attend  to  some  government  formality  and 
they  were  awaiting  his  return. 

"It  is  a  quiet  ending  for  such  a  wild  beginning," 
remarked  the  young  girl,  who,  though  still  in  her 
Oriental  costume,  made  an  entrancing  picture,  de 
spite  her  worn  expression.  She  gazed  pensively  at 
the  lights  of  the  city. 

'  'I  never  knew  so  foul  and  fair  a  day,'  "  quoted 
Laurens.  "I  think  we  are  alone  together  for  the 
first  time  since  we  met  in  the  conservatory.  I  would 
like  to  act,  but  propriety  forbids ;  there  are  eyes  f or- 

£99 


300  THE  IVORY  BALL 

ward.  You  say  I  saved  your  life?  Granted,  for 
the  sake  of  argument.  When  am  I  to  receive  my 
reward?" 

The  girl  turned  to  him,  and  her  eyes  were  won 
derful.  "Oh,  my  dear — my  dear,"  she  said,  with 
an  abandon  that  astonished  him.  "I  have  brought 
you  nothing  but  trouble  since  we  met.  Do  you  wish 
to  be  rewarded  by  more?" 

"Josephine,"  he  returned,  taking  her  hand;  "in 
spite  of  his  injustice  Chow  T'su  has  taught  me  a  les 
son.  I  shall  no  longer  be  useless  and  self-sufficient. 
I  have  an  object  in  life — which  is  to  welcome  trouble 
— when  it  arrives  in  the  form  you  put  it.  When 
shall  it  come?" 

She  was  about  to  answer,  but  the  officer  who  had 
charge  of  the  marines  appeared  from  the  saloon  and 
went  up  to  them. 

"Mr.  Laurens,  the  steward  reports  that  some 
thing  is  wrong  in  the  Chinaman's  cabin.  He  cannot 
get  in  to  serve  supper,  and  neither  he,  nor  the  guard, 
nor  myself  can  get  an  answer  from  him." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  The  prisoner  sent  for  Mow- 
Sing  an  hour  ago,  and  I  let  the  boy  see  him  for  five 
minutes,  in  my  presence.  They  spoke  in  Chinese." 

Laurens  leaped  to  his  feet. 


SAVING  HIS  FACE  301 

"Break  down  the  door,  sir.  Dollars  to  cents  he 
has  made  away  with  himself!" 

Josephine  turned  white  and  shivered,  and  at  that 
moment  the  deck  was  hailed  by  Woodstock,  who  was 
returning  with  a  couple  of  police  officials.  Laurens 
explained  his  fear  and  the  men  hurried  below. 

The  guards,  of  which  there  had  been  two  since 
the  Chinaman's  recovery,  maintained  they  had  heard 
nothing  unusual  since  the  boy  left  the  room.  They 
had  seen  Mow-Sing  go  into  the  room  next  the 
prisoner's,  but  he  had  not  stayed  there  more  than 
a  minute.  They  had  not  seen  him  since. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  break  down  the 
door,  and  the  marine's  heavy  shoulders  soon  tore 
it  from  its  fastenings.  Laurens  did  not  have  to 
step  in  to  see  what  had  happened.  Chow  T'su 
lay  on  his  tack  on  the  floor.  He  was  quite  dead, 
and  one  glance  at  him  showed  how  he  had  caused  his 
own  terrible  end. 

"Hiri-kirif"  exclaimed  Laurens.  "How  did  he 
get  the  knife?  Find  Mow-Sing,  someone." 

But  no  search  was  necessary.  At  the  call  of  his 
name  the  Chinese  boy  seemed  to  slip  through  the 
legs  of  the  assembled  group.  He  fell  on  his  knees 
before  Laurens. 

"Me  givee  knife!"  he  cried  hysterically.     "He 


THE  IVORY  BALL 

tell  Mow  he  killee  him — he  folly  him  hundled  years 
— he  folly  you  hundled  years — if  me  no  catchee 
knife  and  give.  If  he  gettee  knife  he  no  killee  any 
mans.  Me  catchee  knife — me  push  over  transolm  in 
Missy  room.  Mow-Sing  run  away.  Now  you  safe 
— Mow  safe!" 

"You  were  afraid  of  him,  got  the  knife  and 
pushed  it  over  the  transom  of  the  next  room?"  asked 
Laurens. 

"Yeh." 

"You  poor  little  duffer!  I  cannot  blame  you. 
You  were  in  more  danger  than  I!" 

Later,  as  he  went  on  deck,  the  girl  leaned  for 
ward  with  inquiring  eyes. 

"Well,  he  has  saved  his  face,"  said  Laurens. 

And  she  understood. 


Locked  securely  in  a  safe-deposit  vault  in  New 
York  is  the  ivory  ball,  and  once  in  a  long  time  Lau 
rens  exhibits  it  to  some  deeply  interested  archaeolo 
gist.  He  considers  it  as  belonging  to  his  wife,  but 
she  refuses  all  title  to  it. 

When  he  happens  to  speak  of  the  thing  Josephine 
shudders.  And  then  he  tells  her  that  the  evil  influ- 


SAVING  HIS  FACE  303 

ence  of  the  ojimi  with  its  priceless  stone  must  have 
been  dissipated,  as  it  had  certainly  brought  the  best 
of  luck  to  him. 

At  which  she  smiles  again. 


END 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

MARY  ROBERTS    RINEHART 

May  ba  had  wherever  bocks  ara  sold.    Ask  far  Crossst  &  Dunlap's  list. 

"K."     Illustrated. 

K.  LeMoyne,  famous  surgeon,  drops  out  of  the  world  that 
has  known  him,  and  goes  to  live  in  a  little  town  where 
beautiful  Sidney  Page  lives.  She  is  in  training  to  become  a 
nurse.  The  joys  and  troubles  of  their  young  love  are  told 
with  that  keen  and  sympathetic  appreciation  which  has 
made  the  author  famous. 

THE  MAN  IN  LOWER  TEN. 
Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 

An  absorbing  detective  story  woven  around  the  mysteri 
ous  death  of  the  "Man  in  Lower  Ten."  The  strongest 
elements  of  Mrs.  Rinehart's  success  are  found  in  this  book. 

WHEN  A  MAN  MARRIES. 

Illustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher  and  Mayo  Bunker. 

A  young  artist,  whose  wife  had  recently  divorced  him, 
finds  that  his  aunt  is  soon  to  visit  him.  The  aunt,  who 
contributes  to  the  family  income  and  who  has  never  seen 
the  wife,  knows  nothing  of  the  domestic  upheaval.  How 
the  young  man  met  the  situation  is  humorously  and  moat 
entertainingly  told. 

THE  CIRCULAR  STAIRCASE.     Illus.  by  Lester  Ralph. 

The  summer  occupants  of  "Sunnyside"  find  the  dead 
body  of  Arnold  Armstrong,  the  son  of  the  owner,  on  the  cir 
cular  staircase.  Following  the  murder  a  bank  failure  is  an 
nounced.  Around  these  two  events  is  woven  a  plot  of 
absorbing  interest. 

THE  STREET  OF  SEVEN  STARS. 
Illustrated  (Photo  Play  Edition.) 

Harmony  Wells,  studying  in  Vienna  to  be  a  great  vio 
linist,  suddenly  realizes  that  her  money  is  almost  gone.  She 
meets  a  young  ambitious  doctor  who  offers  her  chivalry  and 
sympathy,  and  together  with  world-worn  Dr.  Anna  and 
Jimmie,  the  waif,  they  share  their  love  and  slender  means. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,         NEW  YORK 


RALPH    CONNOR'S  STORIES 

OF   THE    NORTHWEST 

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THE  SKY  PILOT  IN  NO  MAN'S  LAND 

The  clean-hearted,  strong-limbed  man  of  the  West  leaves 
his  hills  and  forests  to  fight  the  battle  for  freedom  in  the 
old  world. 

BLACK  ROCK 

A  story  of  strong  men  in  the  mountains  of  the  West. 
THE  SKY  PILOT 

A  story  of  cowboy  life,  abounding  in  the  freshest  humor, 
the  truest  tenderness  and  the  finest  courage. 
THE  PROSPECTOR 

A  tale  of  the  foothills  and  of  the  man  who  came  to  them 
to  lend  a  hand  to  the  lonely  men  and  women  who  needed  a 
protector. 
THE  MAN  FROM  GLENGARRY 

This  narrative  brings  us  into  contact  with  elemental  and 
volcanic  human  nature  and  with  a  hero  whose  power  breathes 
from  every  word. 
GLENGARRY  SCHOOL  DAYS 

In  this  rough  country  of  Glengarry,  Ralph  Connor  has 
found  human  nature  in  the  rough. 
THE  DOCTOR 

The  story   of  a  "preacher-doctor"  whom  big  men  and 
reckless  men  loved  for  his  unselfish  life  among  them. 
THE  FOREIGNER 

A  tale  of  the  Saskatchewan  and  of  a  "  foreigner "  who 
made  a  brave  and  winning  fight  for  manhood  and  love. 
CORPORAL  CAMERON 

This  splendid  type  of  the  upright,  out-of-door  man  about 
which  Ralph  Connor  builds  all  his  stories,  appears  again  in 
this  book. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,         PUBLISHERS,         NEW  YORK 


THE  NOVELS  OF 
GRACE    LIVINGSTON    HILL     LUTZ 

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THE  BEST  MAN 

Through  a  strange  series  of  adventures  a  young  man  finds 
himself  propelled  up  the  aisle  of  a  church  and  married  to  a 
strange  girl. 

A  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

On  her  way  West  the  heroine  steps  off  by  mistake  at  a  lonely 
watertank  into  a  maze  of  thrilling  events. 

THE  ENCHANTED  BARN 

Every  member  of  the  family  will  enjoy  this  spirited  chronicle 
of  a  young  girl's  resourcefulness  and  pluck,  and  the  secret  of 
the  ' '  enchanted ' '  barn. 

THE  WITNESS 

The  fascinating  story  of  the  enormous  change  an  incident 
wrought  in  a  man's  life. 

MARCIA  SCHUYLER 

A  picture  of  ideal  girlhood  set  in  the  time  of  full  skirts  and 
poke  bonnets. 

LO.   MICHAEL  ! 

A  story  of  unfailing  appeal  to  all  who  love  and  understand  boys. 
THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

An  intensely  moving  love  story  of  a  man  of  the  desert  and  a 
girl  of  the  East  pictured  against  the  background  of  the  Far  West. 

PHOEBE  DEANE 

A  tense  and  charming  love  story,  told  with  a  grace  and  a  fer 
vor  with  which  only  Mrs.  Lutz  could  tell  it. 

DAWN  OF  THE  MORNING 

A  romance  of  the  last  century  with  all  of  its  old-fashioned 
charm.  A  companion  volume  to  "  Marcia  Schuyler"  and 
"Phoebe  Deane." 

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"STORM  COUNTRY"  BOOKS  BY 

GRACE  MILLER  WHITE 

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JUDY  OF  ROGUES'  HARBOR 

Judy's  untutored  ideas  of  God,  her  love  of  wild  things, 
her  faith  in  life  are  quite  as  inspiring  as  those  of  Tess. 
Her  faith  and  sincerity  catch  at  your  heart  strings.  This 
book  has  all  of  the  mystery  and  tense  action  of  the  other 
Storm  Country  books. 

TESS  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY 

It  was  as  Tess,  beautiful,  wild,  impetuous,  that  Mary 
Pickford  made  her  reputation  as  a  motion  picture  actress. 
How  love  acts  upon  a  temperament  such  as  hers — a  tem 
perament  that  makes  a  woman  an  angel  or  an  outcast,  ac 
cording  to  the  character  of  the  man  she  loves — is  the 
theme  of  the  story. 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY 

The  sequel  to  "  Tess  of  the  Storm  Country,"  with  the 
same  wild  background,  with  its  half-gypsy  life  of  the  squat 
ters — tempestuous,  passionate,  brooding.  Tess  learns  the 
"  secret "  of  her  birth  and  finds  happiness  and  love  through 
her  boundless  faith  in  life. 

FROM  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MISSING 

A  haunting  story  with  its  scene  laid  near  the  country 
familiar  to  readers  of  "  Tess  of  the  Storm  Country." 

ROSE  O'  PARADISE 

"  Jinny"  Singleton,  wild,  lovely,  lonely,  but  with  a  pas 
sionate  yearning  for  music,  grows  up  in  the  house  of  Lafe 
Grandoken,  a  crippled  cobbler  of  the  Storm  Country.  Her 
romance  is  full  of  power  and  glory  and  tenderness. 

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JACK    LONDON'S    NOVELS 

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JOHN  BARLEYCORN.    Illustrated  by  H.  T.  Dunn. 

This  remarkable  book  is  a  record  of  the  author's  own  amaziag 
experiences.  This  big,  brawny  world  rover,  who  has  been  ac- 
,quainted  with  alcohol  from  boyhood,  comes  out  boldly  against  Johm 
'Barieycorn.  It  is  a  string  of  exciting  adventures,  yet  it  forcefully 
!  conveys  an  unforgetable  idea  and  makes  a  typical  Jack  London  book. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON.    Frontispiece  by  George  Harper. 

The  story  opens  in  the  city  slums  where  Billy  Roberts,  teamster 
and  ex-prize  fighter,  and  Saxon  Brown,  laundry  worker,  meet  and 
love  and  marry.  They  tramp  from  one  end  of  California  to  the 
other,  and  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon  find  the  farm  paradise  that  is 
to  be  their  salvation. 
BURNING  DAYLIGHT.  Four  illustrations. 

The  story  ot  an  adventurer  who  went  to  Alaska  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  his  fortune  before  the  gold  hunters  am ved.  Bringing 
his  fortunes  to  the  States  he  is  cheated  out  of  it  by  a  crowd  of  money 
kings,  and  recovers  it  only  at  the  muzzle  of  his  gun.  He  then  starts 
out  as  a  merciless  exploiter  on  his  own  account.  Finally  he  takes  to 
drinking  and  becomes  a  picture  of  degeneration.  About  this  time 
he  falls  in  love  with  his  stenographer  and  wins  her  heart  but  not 
her  hand  and  then — but  read  the  story! 
A  SON  OF  THE  SUN.  Illustrated  by  A.  O.  Fischer  and  C.  W.  Ashley. 

David  Grief  was  once  a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  youth  who  came 
from  England  to  the  South  Seas  in  search  of  adventure.  Tanned 
like  a  native  and  as  lithe  as  a  tiger,  he  became  a  real  son  of  the  sun. 
The  life  appealed  to  him  and  he  remained  and  became  very  wealthy. 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin  and 
Charles  Livingston  Bull.  Decorations  by  Charles  E.  Hooper. 

A  book  ot  dog  adventures  as  exciting  as  any  man's  exploits 
could  be.  Here  is  excitement  to  stir  the  blood  and  here  is  pictur 
esque  color  to  transport  the  reader  to  primitive  scenes. 

THE  SEA  WOLF.    Illustrated  by  W.  J.  Aylward. 

Told  by  a  man  whom  Fate  suddenly  swings  from  his  fastidious 
,Kfe  into  the  power  of  the  brutal  captain  of  a  sealing  schooner.    A 
novel  of  adventure  warmed  by  a  beautiful  love  episode  that  every 
leader  will  hail  with  delight. 
WHITE  FANG.    Illustrated  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

<;White  Fang"  is  part  dog,  part  wolf  and  all  brute,  living  in  the 
frozen  north ;  he  gradually  comes  under  the  spell  of  man's  com- 
panionship,  and  surrenders  all  at  the  last  in  a  fight  with  a  bull  dog 
Thereafter  he  is  man's  loving  slave,  yj 

GROSSET   &   DUNLAP,  PUBLISHERS,    NEW   YORK 


NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE  BY 

WILLIAM   MACLEOD    RAINE 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.    I  Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list. 

MAVERICKS 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "  rustler  "  abounds.    One  of  the  sweetes. 
love  stories  ever  told. 

A  TEXAS  RANGER 

How  a  member  of  the  border  police  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man,  followed  a 
fugitive  to  Wyoming,  and  then  passed  through  deadly  peril  to  ultimate  happiness. 

WYOMING 

In  this  vivid  story  the  author  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  all  its 
engaging  dash  and  vigor. 

RIDGWAY  OF  MONTANA 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  of  Montana,  where  politics  and  mining  in 
dustries  are  the  religion  of  the  country. 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR 

Every  chapter  teems  with  wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  replete  with  the  dashing 
spirit  of  the  border. 

CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT 

A  story  of  Arizona  ;  of  swift-riding  men  and  darinSr  outkwi ;  of  a  bitter  feud  be 
tween  cattle-men  and  sheep-herders. 

BRAND  BLOTTERS 

A  story  of  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  a  charming  love  interest  running 
through  its  page*. 
STEVE  YEAGER 

A  story  brimful  of  excitement,  with  e«ough  gun-play  and  adventure  to  suit  anyone. 
A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  DONS 

A  Western  story  of  romance  and  adventure,  comprising  a  vivacious  and  stirring 
tale. 
THE  HIGHGRADER 

A  breezy,  pleasant  and  amusing  love  story  of  Western  mining  life. 
THE  PIRATE  OF  PANAMA 

A  tale  of  old-time  pirates  and  of  modern  love,  hate  and  adventure. 
THE  YUKON  TRAIL 

A  crisply  entertaining  love  story  in  the  land  where  might  makes  right. 
THE  VISION  SPLENDID 

In  which  two  cousins  are  contestants  for  tke  same  prizes ;  political  honors  and  the 
hand  of  a  girl. 

THE   SHERIFF'S  SON 

The  hero  finally  conquers  both  himself  and  his  enemies  and  wins  the  love  of  a 
wonderful  girl. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,          PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


B.  M.  BOWER'S  NOVELS 

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CHIP  OF  THE  FLYING  U.  Wherein  the  1  ove  affairs  of  Chip  and 
Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told. 

THE  HAPPY  FAMILY.  A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with 
the  adventures  of  eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys, 

PER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT.  Describing  a  gay  party  of  Easterner! 
who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  a  Montana  ranch-house. 

THE  RANGE  DWELLERS.  Spirited  action,  a  range  feud  be- 
two  families,  and  a  Romeo  and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright, 
jolly  story. 

THE  LURE  OF  THE  DIM  TRAILS.  A  vivid  portmyal  of  the 
experience  of  an  Eastern  author  among  the  cowboys. 

THE  LONESOME  TRAIL.  A  little  branch  of  sage  brush  and  the 
recollection  of  a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  upset  "Weary"  David 
son's  plans. 

THE  LONG  SHADOW.  A  vigorous  Western  etory,  sparkling  with 
the  free  outdoor  life  of  a  mountain  ranch.  It  is  a  fine  love  story. 

GOOD  INDIAN.     A  stirring  romance  of  'ife  on  an  Idaho  ranch. 

FLYING  U  RANCH.     Another  delightful  story  about  Chip  and 

his  pals. 
THE  FLYING  ITS  LAST  STAND.     An  amusing  account  of  Chip 

and  the  other  boys  opposing  a  party  of  school  teachers. 
THE  UPHILL  CLIMB.     A  story  of  a  mountain  ranch  and  of  a 

man's  hard  fight  on  the  uphill  road  to  manliness. 
THE  PHANTOM  HERD.     The  title  of  a  moving-picture  staged  in 
~  New  Mexico  by  the  "Flying  U  "  boys. 
THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  SIOUX.     The  "  Flying  U"  boys  stags 

a  fake  bank  robbery  for  film  purposes  which  precedes  a  real  one 

for  lust  of  gold. 
THE  GRINGOS.     A  story  of  love  and  adventure  on  a  ranch  is 

California. 
STARR  OF  THE  DESERT.     A  New  Mexico  ranch  story  ot  my* 

tery  arid  adventure. 
THE  LOOKOUT  MAN.     A  Northern  California  story  full  of  action; 

excitement  and  love. 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,         NEW  YORK 


JOHN  FOX, 

STORIES   OF  THE  KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

May  be  had  wherever  bocks  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dnnlap's  list        , 

THE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME  PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  "lonesome  pine"  from  which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that( 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.^  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
foot-prints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  Ie4  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

THE  LITTLE  SHEPHERD  OF  KINGDOM  COME 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King 
dom  Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

"  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came  —  he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery  —  a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT   OF  THE    CUMBERLAND. 
Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland*1 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  f  eudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon 
shiner's  son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris 
tened  "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  ths 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 


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Fictio 


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